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MiaiOCOPY (liSOUITION TBI CHART 

(ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 




1^1^ i 



A /APPLIED IM/IGE Inc 

^=^ 1653 East Main Street 

f^ f^ochester, Ne* YorK 14609 USA 

".^S (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone 

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-•sS^^^ 



CHIPPINGE 
BOROUGH 



SIANLEV J. WEVMAN' 



AUTHOR OF 




M.CMaMN COMP..V OK C...O.. ..„, 



CONTENTS 



taa. 
I. 

U. 

IIL 

IV. 

V, 

VI. 

i VIL 

vin. 

IX. 
X. 

xr.' 

xir. 

xm. 

XIV. 
XV. 
XVI. 

' xvn. 
xvin. 

"' XDC. 
XX. 



The DrsMLtmnT 

The Sparr or toe Sioiot 

TlfO IiETTEBS 

TaniiviI TASTivrl TashtvI 

RoST-nBOEllED DaWX 

The Patsot or CnmwaB 

The WncDs or Aurtmir 

A Sad Misadtzktuiie 

The Bar. fob omso Etebttodt E,-EETTmxo 

The Queer's Squap^e Academy ro» Toraa Ladies 

Dos GioVAirai FuiKW 

A BOTTEH BOBOCQH 

The VEB3nrn>Eir Dohieb 

Mbs Sibsos's Mbtakb 

Mb. Ptbub'e Orran ... 

Less toas a Hebo 

The CHippDroB Ei,EcnoN 

The CHipmQB Eutonos (rm,««««;) 

The PBDm or Victobi 

A Plot Uhjuseed 



1 

13 
. 2S 
32 
43 
63 
. 60 
69 
81 
90 
101 
113 
124 
13S 
142 
ISO 
163 
171 
181 
190 



n 



** CONTENTS 

CHAP. 

XXI. A Meetuio of Old Fbiesds 

XXII. WOKES'S Heabts 

XXIII.. Is the House 

XXIV. A ItiOBT AHD Ltrr 

XXV. At Staphioh 

XXVL The Scekb is tub Hall 

XXVII. Wicked 8hipt8 ... - 

XXVIII. OscE MOBE, Tastitt! ... ' 

XXIX. Arrnmr Leaves ... ... 

XXX. The Hatob's Receftioh in Qdeek's Sqdabb 

XXXL Sdndat is Bb»tol 

XXXIL The Arnur at the Palace 

XXXni. FiEEl 

XXXIV. HocBS or Dabksess 

XXXv'. The Mobhino or Mondat ... ,.. 

XXXVI. FOBOITEHESS ,., 

XXXVU. In the MoomnHo Coach ... .„ ,;, 

XXXVm. TUBEADS AKD PATCHES ... 



198 



.. 219 
.^30 
. 238 

26^4 
,. 263 

27i 

286 

295 

308 

316 

325 

333 

340 

863 

361 

371 



CHIPPINGE 



fe 



CHAPTER I 

THE DISSOLUTION 

Booh I 

It was the twentv-gecond of April, 1881, and a Tonng man 
»a. walkmg down WbtehaU in the direction of IParlilment 
Street. He wore shepherd's plaid tronaera and the swallow- 
tailed coat of the day, with a figured mnsUn cravat wound 
about hiB mde-gprrad colUr. He halted opposite the Privy 
Oardens, «nd, with his face turned skywards, listened nntU the 
sound of the Tower guns smote again on the ear and dispefled 
his donbte. To the experienced, ^is outward man, neat and 
modesUy prosperous, denoted a young barrister of promise or a 
Ireasniy cl«k. His figure was goofJ, he was above the middle 
heigh^ and he earned Himself wfth an easy independence. He 

>jeemed to be one who both held a fair opinion of himself and 
knew how to anpress that opinion on. his fellows ; yet was 

. not incapable of deference where deference was plainly due. 

f-'™,^ • '^ ng'y nor handsome, neither slovenly nor a 

fttit-maUre; mdeed, it was doubtful if he had ever Ken the 

»8ide of Almick B. But his features were strong and intel- 
lectual, and the keen grey eyes which looked so boldly on the 
world could express both humour and good-humour. In a 

wnrn r.nia vminfv man »«»« » t ^ 



word, this yoMK man was one upon whom women, even great 
likely to look with pleasure, and one woman— but 



ladies, were _„, „ h"="««. 

ne liad not yet met her— with tenderness. 

Boom! 

He was only one among a dozen who within the space of a 
few yards had been brought to a stand by the sound, who knew 
what the salute meant, and in their various ways were moved 



* CHIPPINGE 

while the lonKsraa of S^ «S;Sa '''"*°'^<>"^4»'<*M, 
to the OontSeT^ ttiXSST '"'"' ?"?,'»« '^■o'* 
young man'i nZe ™ ^fc„f^ '°.™" "^^ Vanghan-the 
the iteeet wLiTlSi/^ithl liTrf"^' ^^ bind hta , 

toward. T^e.tmlL:; H«''dft.°'tlr„f ^T- ?° 

SMuro^C^^wSs?^^ 



the different oK?w"^U^iS^ si r'^ '*'««' ««» 



about the Hon»^ efgX it P'**"""* "^ow the crowd 
qnite oat of t'l^e oSZ^ slh ktrndred-evinoecTa joy 

that it wai a gi,d thing; Klvdn^?°*?'"j'°¥'..''"« ™>'*« 
of that part Sthe town^Jd tS^L ^^''^^ t^o wtole 
Houses the guMboomrforXli?™'* moving toward, the 
tl»e nnexpectShadSSiS .^^h^Tf^ '*!■''" *" "^^^^ "«' 
P«ed thVPeople'. M^onjiTn^iS?*"'*?' 1""^ had 
HooM which Q ever votodZ^nT?"^?* °f " *>» laigeM 
.helved it bj »me .^J^"^™« done tiut, Sd 
fate which it deMTired «>bterfnge, wai meeting the 

or «s tot' Wii-tlff^ ""rr ^»««^°"» BaC 

Bat t^^ed it that re^?'^'*^^'!t^^«>I*''» ^ 
exulted Id the faU otitlS^Z^^' '^^' "» *•»" enthaaaan, 
though here afld u:er^'*a^'°^^,'t«'"JlfT<''^.p»in- aS 
mature age .tood aside ZIoowLC^. *f°'5'^ * -"^ »* 

told of theriK iT&r^y^l *T 'o *be «lvoe. ttat 
•-N^e-ation to^^^^tl^ft ^V^l^^^J^^^ ^^ 



■K 



I « 



THE DISSOLUTION , 

Wtf^'^fi ^°^',°*'^ *"? *^ ^»87 rtreeta with brisbter 

Humh for Mr. Broagbun I 
Homh for Oaffer Qiey | 
Hunh for Lord John— 

F^jL*" "n"'?^ *<"; *^'> Ministry, hnrmh for the WW™ i 
And, above aU, three cheer, for the KinTwho had .t«5^J 

Meanwlule the yonng man who has been de«crih«l i«in»,^ 
Mmthirii he shared the general feeling. Still hS TOlkS^f? 

« It u true, than," he muttered. " And :or to^T I .h.!! 
?*"J^X*««"iformy™in,. He will Ce (S,^ L frf 

himid/ to Cn'/ "«*?">ffi° !? M old jockey-cap attached 
,„-Mi . • y°" honour," he croaked in gta-lSen aoomtt««S 

«em^be«dee. Oome on, yonr honour, or they'U be jitSg 
the SSf^vf"*^ **'""««' -^^ok his head. He wavM 
^ Bjrtthe i,ut looked only to his market, and was not easily 

P^ce i H get yon to .ee hun. Oome on, yonr honour J If« 



""IN^' 



^ 



(■ 



* CHIPPINGE 

tire roor man-tn? «!!? »u K*""*™". «nd alw»y« a word tor 

bleH him I " • ' " '*'"' "°8 ''^« the King, God 

iu «7oS ^-L^^t' itii?^'^^ """ PTP'" "X"." chimed 

bv the rtyle xuaeVwCh'ZhJZ!^ » ?" ^°"'" '<> "»e mob 

L: Jm"S^oaS^rrfej?"\''^f '''}'? »' '•«»<' chee«. 
Bat he W notMto for *h.^' ¥ '^"' "? *« Popnl" udc. 
sight of Z owwt wUch WM SLfen'" 'Hr*!' •""» «>« 
upaoe before Palao^ Y^^ Z? ' «»nP7Uig the whole of the 

attendant and, crwinK into WhSXpl" "' ?t°°^ <>« ^ig 
down, imme™;! inTK^ti^"*'^' ^^' ''"^ed up «,d 

natuV^ntSSenrfehS'B,!''* ^."«'"« ^^-^ 
a new England, and for many «„7-„'i'r''^'°^ °"»' """te 
on hi. OTO fortnnw -Se L«»!^» °''^~;r' ^^k«'7 1" have 
Wales, come earh to his inhm>!„l 5 T? '*'»'*' ^ South 
idle life of an oicS to t,SS^",tf ' '"'^'^ "=!"'°«^ "' *e 
Bervice, believing ^udf K, .T 'f^*^ \'^ ""^ 7«»™ <>' 
hia commisBion rnHin^ C S'l"'? W"'- •»« ^ «>« 
He hoped th^t hThadTbenUhS wlv^ a^^"^ ?""'"'»• 
immortal three who th.W , V*' ""? the glory of the 
-SlftWwrM ^iJ L hv'J^ ^^°'f ^"^ ftMded the 
rttracThinT wChonfd not v'-'^' ""^,1 *'''* "^^ I»«iWe! 

- Who, in the jii^ ^e trproiThrs.'s^ 



THE DISSOLUTIOK ^ 

•hire for York o?LcwX7,"'J'"'T"!." '"'«'>' <>' 'h* 
with equafZ? To Wef i? w«*i'^''''''''r ^"J^ 
diBtant but Inminonl ttS hlu m " P'«m inoh at thwe, 

hi* chances """ P*"'*'^ "» '"« ""'ddle claaa would have on 



* CHIPPINGE 

'i^^^i'^^^i^ZtS.^L'^.:^*^.'^'- And 

hri init h.m»m!iiJTk ?~ "" P^ thonghU ud that which 

the twittering ot^XnL^"^ "^l"« ''»»' "»>! 

H. thooght of tU line^ « old and .o .ppHcbl. , 
Oanm eoden oogjomr, omniiua 

JSxillain inpmituim tjmbit. 

return, no mon tSS the taSfC?h« 1- '^''' •?■* *"«'» 
coeval with it, whentiie doofrf 1^? hSSJ^^^'iS* "^^^ '^ 
came heavily out. oImI^ »i^ SL v v?"¥ ?P*»«d and s man 
h«d bent ow«d1h?d^,2I^""'' Wm, and, with h£ 
down the itieeT ' *^' "' ^ "ntomaton, nude olf 

The mun waa itont ai woU ai tall W« -«-. i.- i. 

iaw M much, nm th^^il^'***'5**P*'''e'»- "'^w »n 

.P<J^ n\r'aned?hL?;L^k?l*>'' ^^ ■?*" »<"«>er 
theror to him. * '^ 'P"^* '"' •'^•»- ^'nghwi crowd 

"Whatiait?»hea«ked. 
" w. iLT* **• *''°** blnbberinir. " Oh Lorf ! » i,. -u 
hi^/e,^{^irtothe'?r'"'"1'"'V °e'« »^ boMJ 
he'llTmnrfAd" Forfe'^kf ^ ,','"' V"^ ^"-'"^ 
Sir Oharlei Wctterell wd « itf ' '"i'"' *'"»• «" He'a 

For ta J^iy^ffli '^"Ifci^ »<!' r^n^ Wetherell. 

borough f7r Slle ^. weHeStfnl ^^W^'ili"?*' !«?*' 
-•7 wa. he the high«t' Tn^^Ae^'^'TZt^''?^ 



\ 



I 



THE DISSOLUTION y 

he hid bMB diuQlMd for ruMng the CathouTcWmr Bin« 

fa^Sl CTiJ" "f wncowoi. At thii d*t« hi pMwi 

««I„L? v"' ? *t" *" old-fMhioned Md illibenl and 

I!^-?!?^"/^"^'!' "^ *'* • heart full of pity-for he 

JS^iTl.""' ir'Sr'. ""x^-he made after hSn: 
In .?' '"*^'"' I*' '''»*• '«• *>«»« wy "head and involved 
oVpal^'T;rd^:hZ''lL'^,'^''« ."-.'•'''•^ °pSi^ 

«^3r^''?¥'?«» •'?*'" """"^ •'"""ed on ihe rfver- 
ftongh oooap.ed h» » looaely moving mnlUtnd^ and nr^ 

S?"p? 5 **"• »^ 'K »'?o.t "iination, wa. n«* im^fit 
&r O^e, w. in the heart of the mwd befow'irww^ 

J^«i'l?^ r* ***°u ^ ■^"•> i.ncorKion«i6« and ft^ 
gMiewI gcod-hnmonr, bom of victory, wrved him weH He 
j». too fwjiUa, . flgnw to po« alKgether n.A:.C .^ 
.S^i,'°^J'"r •v?*» hJ-edhim, and one gi^up tnnied 
and hooted •f ter him Bnt he wat within a dSen ywdTof 
h«i."'£5°'* "' ^ Stephen'* Oonrt. with Vr.nghan « hta 
heet befow any violence wa« olTereS. There a man whom 
•>• jMpP'PM to iortle recognind him and, bawuTf aha^ 
pa.he/hun radefy. T^lot might well' h?7e fcenlS 
oS^iJ^XnM*°"S thingj bnt Vanghan touched the man 
on tte lEouMer and looked him in lie face. " I .hall W 

HllthTt V^'-^ "^'"' • ««>" And the fdlo,^ 
ntunidated by liii word, and hi. tiz feet of height, .hnmk 
into himwlf and stood back. ' "'""" , 

n,.^Vi!,'*'l''"^J^'y.°°''«^ themdenew. But he noted 

ht Si»^' J^°°" J°" '°° again, young gentleman." And 

MlZ^ h*"^/ °° T P^ o°» "^^^ "•"d tato the court, 
loIlOTved bv a few Mattered hisMa. ' 

» J«r^» »he offloer. of the Houm who guarded tho entrance 
™.^P of excit^ perwn. stood tolking. They were chiefly 
ST^^Ju" ^ JM'leftthe House aSd had Wn brought 
m^„?f"u''^i^u «Pe<* 0' the crowd.-njn Keing WetheSll, 
•nrpnae altered their look.. 



* CHIPPINGE 

comedown,wTthJrell7^^ ""e. steppiDg fomarf. "you've 

Lackn.y^oaoh rather than nTclf'soXr;,"'""' '° " 

go back." '*^'*- 2"' as I am too late— I'll 

draw^him^neta/I^h^'f t.h'*^ no. longer anything to 
and pendulous ohleZZ^^^T^^Zl '"'*'' ''« "^onble fhin 
Bnnk% the level oMh^'^ent ^t "f^ ^" '^«° '^^ 
mm with shocked faces S^hL T-^* others stood round 
had driven the flash^'the-^m^f pZJ°^\ ''°'' '"'«"'» 
"gnjjjg loudly, came np anHere si^K^ two members, 
n muttered word. The nnrainlv !tf* j ^ -V " elMc« and 
did but accentuate the ?S™«.t^'ei^ 
knew-none better-how^roflv hn» i?*'","^*^"™- They 

hadllta^a'bttMH?^^^^ 

bosom, would hurt hrno mo^^, P"^ ^un by to lodge in her 

TvithfnThrent;aS:S'velr° "^ t ""^ «-° Sir Charles 
to the main d^or of The hIu T^^' ^ ^'^"^ »'S 
He had no hop that he would „n J r^,*" "^« "««'''ari. 
errand on whicfhe had Lt forth" fl^/nt *" P^'^"™ "'e 
cnsis would have other fish to f^ °L'HP'"«*"o'. at this 
But he thought that hp urnnu 1 ^ *"^ °^^^^ people to see 
that Lord B?oSgh^''S't'!r^^"f T* '^^ ■"W^ 
■night make a f^npSLTTf ?f V^ ^ ?"«'"'«'. and 
„ Of the vast con..e?K hnn/ "u J"*''^ 'o see him. 
Stephen's Chapel and' tetetuttful Eft I^.'^.iS"'? ^'"^ »'• 
more than the'Sall is kf™ The hS?*^ "'r'*"' "'"« 
the mam in the condition in whiih th^ m^ f'lt ^'''' ""^ " 
-wed it ; as Canning view^TK^^ St^.^JI^: 



THE DISSOLUTION , 

?hat^v'tL'™^"l/° ^^'''' '™' •""! ''««P€Ctmg, perhaps 
tdat they two irould meet no more, nrovedto aTl m/n T^ 

fn Sim?^ffW^ century and who can recall its aspect 
»L t? • • """ *'^^ ^™ barristers paradinff its lenetli 

pavement-all under the lofty roof which hr^nf ZZ in 

e3-'^i' the bSltl" r'r •' i!^ V-Ktan'^w't "^^^n Z 
nn fJ^l • '°«,^n«"e attending the courts of law was added 
~ o«e«'on the supreme excitement of the day T^e^ 

ffi ortjoWng'^er' '""'" '°^ monotonously, calling a 

.„ J"*"?^?" P*"^ *^'^« '•»« cake-staU at the door and 
wryeyed the scene As he stood, one of two men X w^ 
pacmg near saw him, and with a whisne^ word l»ff h^ 
companion and came tiwanis him """^^^ """^ '«" *"» 

cou^y' "!"&'",''' '^^' "^""^'"S his hand with bland 
Tli^-ar SP* 7°°, f^ ''«"• Can I do anvthine for 

you ? Me are d.ssofved, bnt a fi«nk is a fr«nk fo^^lu that- 

"No, I thank you," Vaughan answered. " The truth !» T 
had an appointment with t£e Chancellor for tWs afterniSn 
But I suppose he wiU not see me now." aiiernoon. 

lookpJl™ w""''/'*^™"" '°^'- '■* '•»« result that his face 
looked less bland. He was a small man, with keen dark ctcs 
and bushy grey whiskers, and an air of hawk-liketne^ whlh 
sixty years had not temed. He wore the laced S nf a 
^rjeantat-law, powdered on the shoulder wThe^ but 
lately and hurriedly cast off his wig . « " ue naa out 

" Good G-d I "he said. " With the ChanceUor I " And 
then, pulling him^f up, " But I congratulate you A student 
at the Bar, as I beliere you are, Mr. Vlughan, who has aDMint 
men|,w.th the Chancellor has fortune lid^'^tTirhL 

faughan laughed. "I fear not," he said. "There are 
appomtmenta anS appointments, 8er,eant Wathen. M?ne S 
not of a professional nature." 

Still the Serjeant's face, do what he would, looked irrim 
He had his reasons for disliking what he heard. ^ 

Indeed I he said dryly. " Indeed, but I must not detain 



lo 



CHIPPINGE 



" One of mv coMlihiMtg." 

thirteen who poll. And twv' „ I' !^''° ^^ «o°nt. Bnt 
ft^wning in t^ dire^oVwh^oh wL^^-'; v=« glanced 
wha do yon think his busing S ho^^,J&^- "And 
" What ? " ""siness is Here, confonnd him ? " 

"withfc'?""',^'''' "'"^ ^>=k«J ShiftB." 
« Av " fh °'^°<=eUor ? Pheugh I " 

peret^omelSriin^-'^r^rr'^' "T ""^ -'^««- 
Andten to one ifa aCt my si ^.^°" T^ "^^^ <* "P"" «'• 
tnggmg at the whiskers whfchlh; CZ4-^T'l^^oontinned, 
the imprimatur of fasWon « thaf J?f* ^^ ^^ "^^'^Ved with 
|f we Spn't take ca« W^^r he7^»«'»?''wi^of na 
behind it. Some bed^ihamber nW „ °^ '•''^ " wniething 
out and pnt B in. tt itT, tJl'' °"^ '°'"« """gne to get A 
he'd not W forft and geH T&S"^ ^J^ ^ '^^' 
he'd tnnnel and tunnel f ndVnnii ^'^^^ P'eMe him. Bnt 
^ ''StiU," the o°htt «™^rt^^ 
h?d no seat, and the w^ o?7n! f ■ T*' «"n«n>ent-for he 
placed Wends, have tSotedri^^/^P^'aUyo^ better- 
a safe thing, Wathen? tff old Ve"nl«vi°"/^'"'''^'^°-» "^ 
Chip^nge^ , - Xl^Xft H^^^^^p-i? 

wild torZe StesTolat?'^- l' ?»' -^^ 'Knt'ry 
where. Safe 1" i;« ^T V- 2 ^^'°S "bat may hapnen anv- 
a safer sTt thanVesTb""f '(I'V """'•. " Weret?^ 
better oider than old ZL l^ """^ ''>'? had a place in 
month; taken from toe evS'^'pri" T^, K"^^ ^^ last 
could have existed in a world wT'/*^" '^''> ^°' ^^ "e^er 
not far from OWpp "4 lo I knf v '"'*?? ^""'8'" ' I''" 
yon his Bvstem wS^Kt fol-bZdfnp'' '^T\ ^^ ' *«" 
^bere-a/ter he had ".tted-'on Walli J^c'l J^» Jrft 



THE DISSOLUTION 



(X 



wouldn't have g'tin if ?L™ It/^ '"' ''°' ^^ «^. be 
And the state fn which Ihe co^f J^'" \?"'° ?«™^' "■»• 
was a bit of a ProSnt or^tl^ '^ i*"'"' "'°°g'' *ero 

.hatitwm..,.\^ra7i.'.?!:h:Tl'°..??r?-^^^ 



s will never hn nnf. nnf mi .v i..? " "■? 



in t ji^dllSrwrnerT'^^'"^'''^ lighted a fiS 

o" . Const tntion Yon tlvIlxZ II l. """ "°ne of the 
-.0 think," helijded still mn^^ , ^°' V'' ^"^ ^ 'tink 
havedone his Tho W&whf 1^'^' '^' ''j^ ">« '«^'^g« 
in the countr; • who XL^Z °^ ".^i^ "T ^'^ "^e l»n<l 
the Third hi4el7rwhS S't ?5 t"*" *"" "'"^ •^^'"Ke 
Cabinet to save onr hves. Rv ?l, t ^« ?°'' ""« "''» '^eir 
gusto 'Uhe/llU'^rthe^^^el^-jir ^e conclnded with 

flyln^: yon thS^..'^^"'^^^'^' »^ "^^^ «"» and bad eggs 

"iSmin^'^"^- "" '••'" -- "•« -d of it." he said, 

"He's that I" Wather answered. «A H s • 

What's more, a conain nf J"""*^™' , f a d prig. 

worse, his heiV. Ss whv th^v ™??^^'? "• . ^""^ ''^"^ 
at Chippinge and made hL„nr'/!f '^J''^ corporation 
Thongfit thi vote Baffin fW T °^ '''* ^'^^en electors. 
He winked ^°Bnf thi° *' ^*'?''y' 7°° »«« ? And cheaper ? " 
Sir Botert A b^d or a ni^ht 0:1'°'' ^'"T ^^ '^^ "W 
season amongthe tnrai™ .Sd J^^ f"/"""' """^ 2"' ^'^ '■" '»■« 

That's abonf the ^ilSL"" N!t^i'U;Z°Jf ^'' T'""^-' 
going to try . B„f ir.,^, JH 1 wonaer if Brougham is 

that man's head I He's fdler^*r^°t8?T''S"^' " '" 
meat ! " «■" ' "es fuller of mischief than an egg of 

charged itTnoisT l.i„r ^ ^^^ *?"^^ a late sitting, dis- 

taif. wathen's fri:;fd't^:r'wtrbrthrrird''^j 



II 



CHIPPINGE 



near wliich they had been gtandinp; ; wLUe the serieant with 
looka wh,ch mrrored the ^loom that a hnndrK^^'f!^ 
wore that day, betook himself to the robing-room. Therehe 
^S'^^"*^ .T" '^""''*' unfortunate. They fell to WHn«! 
ana heir t^k ran naturally nnon the Ch^oellor. npon ofd 
rJ^» fi ^n'" '^""■g himself U led by the nose by snoh a 
r(^e i fina ly, upon the mistakes of their own part/. Ti ■>» 



CHAPTEK II 



THE 8PIBIT OP THE 8T0BM 

The Court of Chancery, the preserve for nearly a nuarter of 
a century o Eldon and Delay, was the farthest ftom the 
^uTthe ctn^n'-'"."'^ '^^'"^ -^ Hall-a Bitnat.W^hi-cl 

the fV^mmnn Y°°^^- TfO'tep* rafaed the Tribunals of 
the Common Law above the level of the Hall But as if 
to indicate that this court was not the seat of anrthing so 
common as law, but was the shrine of that more aSin° 
^ption, Patronage, and the altar to which countl3 vTnts 
of the Church of England looked with unwinkingdeTCt on 
a flight of wi or eight steps led up to the door. °«^''"o°. 

InJ Pirj'%*?! secw-ed ha(f been much to the taste of 
Lord Eldon. Doubt and delay flourish best in a close and 
dnstv atmosphere , and if ever there was a nuin to wh^ tbS. 
l^nl^,^^- "f^^ '' "" ""'d Bags." Nor had Lord 
miSt ^iA^'f T^^*^ fl^"^'' ana^eUed with an arrangS 
?n!fV^^ 1?^,'»"? "' liberty to devote his time U- socilty 
and his beautiful wife. But the man who now sat irthc 
marble chair was of another kind from either of these. His 

h.°wh„'°w7^'''i°^^y.'^»''"»« '^ ^'^ charge nor codd 
he who lectured the Whitbreads on brewing, whi explained 

leto "o"? Pjrr- T^° "f "''^ ^'^^r^'J in theTnow- 
ledp of F-.ench hteratnre, who wrote eighty articles for the 
first twenty nnmbers of the Edinburffh liJiewU ^U- 
tetd^hf 'T' li'^^^T Broughaml^ed tolSa; 
tet^t^ *' *' arena the better he was pleased, ^flig 

dukes fwfc T ^ "^1 ^^ "«' P"**"'* o' *'^ ™yal 
tS^M. '^'^*''. """^ a «»re of peera in full dr4 

Favmg begun . as auspiciously, he was not the man to vZ^ 
«>« in the gloom of a Ay-as-dust court, or to be content S 
•3 



M 



CHIPPINGE 



orator, whose voice, raised at the Yorkshire election CfS 
Engtd "'"' '"" "'"'"^"=-'1 - theCtdThetLlTof 
York^ora^^vvf^^'^'il''* ^."^^ '» "«' oa^^^jo^ of 

eveiT crown on the ContineTtoppUng ? ^' ^*" '^ °°' 

blandiSh'fdi^fjSSa"'" - y-. -." S mnrmured 



THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM ,j 

looked np and spoL ^^ "de-tobleg ; and one of them 
ifyonte'^'""'*^'^'"*'"^'" •"'"-J- "Onemoment, 

-.•j§£-d?zr^Sro?ta^s:i^ 

^But the OhanceUor's frank address put hin. at once at his 
«ueZ«^nr' ^'- ^'"'S'^'''" •»« '«»''«'«1 lightly, "bnt 
abo« au\1jiS;S'Sd"cel??S,^.ff^ -J ««'^' ''"^ ^e loved. 

"^f^rr^rSdSo^-T^^^^^^ 

^Wh'^fSfe 

ungainly, with a lone ne'ck^an^ ,!" ■'"°'\ ^'^' ^'"' ^ ""d 
of the strangest f^„hS„P'°^.,'''°"'''''"' •■« *»d one 
clownish feat^ hT hlwhp^v'i;!? ^ T"^ """i- His 
nose are famiS^ to ns • for ^!^"???'^' """^ 1«^' bulbous 
caricaturist, therformw^kbvwSt''r^ ^7 'to 

ughness, singularlT mobile • ar,^ f»,« , .v .' '""' ^^ i** 

restl^aud'^SaWe so,i sW .Tl.'if ''/'"'?'" °^ "^^ 

wUh incredible bXLeihtThicff^H '^''S^*^' ''^P*' 
which his mind conH TnV ^!» "° °* ^"^ "»' l^now, that 

creet-noS^^hS°yer2L?;f^°*"T!?f """.'""1 ^^ ^is- 



i6 



CHIPPIKGE 



fro, " I have not found life very empty or very uuplciiMut. 
lint it W88 not to tell you this that I asked you to wait on mc, 
Mr. Yaughan, as yoa may suppose. Light I It is a singular 
thing that yon at the outset of your career — even as I thfrty 
years ago at the same point of mine — should take up such a 
parergon, and alight upon the same discovery," 

"I do not thmk I understand." 

" In your article on the possibility of the permanence of 
reflections— to which I referred in my letter, I tnink ? " 

" Yes, my lord, you did." 

" You have restated a fact which I maintained for the first 
time more than thirty years ago I In my paper on colours, 
read before the Boyal Society in — I think it was '96." 

Yaughan stcred. His colour rose slowly. " Indeed ? " ho 
said, in a ton from which he vainly strove to banish in- 
credulity. 

"Yon have perhaps read the paper ? " 

" Yes, I have." 

The Ohancellor chuckled. "And found nothing of the 
kind in it ? " he said. 

Yaughan colonred still more deeply. He ■ felt that the 
position was unpleasant. 

" Frankly, my lord, if yon ask me, no." 

"And yon think yourself," with a gri.i, "the first dis- 
coverer ? " 

" I did." 

Brougham sprang Uke a boy to his feet, and whiskeu his long, | 
lank body to a distant bookshelf. Thence he took down n' 
mnch-rubbed manuscript book. As he returned he opene4 
this at a place already marked, and, laying it on the table, he 
beckoned to the young man to approach. 

" Read that," he said waggishly, " and confess, youngjir, 
that there were chiefs before Agamemnon." 

Yaughan stooped over the book, and having read, looked up 
in perplexity. 

" But this passage," he said, " waa not in the paper read 
before the Boyal Society in '96 ? " 

" In the paper read ? No. Nor yet in the paper printed p"! 
There, too, you are right. And wliy ? Because a sapient 
dunderhead who was in authority requested me to omit this 
passage. He did not believe that light passing through a small 
hole in tiiA window-shutter of a darkened room impresses a 



I 



THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM 



ir^WwithiirraSIf .ilverr ' ^"^'"""' " ™" <"> *vo^J' 

■ in?for}oT?"°"''"""'""'^ "^'W »<" «frain from send- 
f "I do not, indeed." 

will be rtill more singular " ^*'* -^ "'• **>« «'««»oo 

Vanghan coloured with plcMure "A?.. i'>i. -j 
"one swallow, my lord daimimi, ^' *■« ••"i. smilins, 
" Ah, my irieU"Zit\^ u"' '°*''® » ""mmer." '^' 

-.oreof^oTthr^ouSnV "10*:^^' "ll;- "B"'I know 
and Wt k C«fe«'< "rm« /^«,^h p"'"* "" *^ '^"^' ^ ^^' 

jdmbni^h. Ood know(?^hi Zf- * J^^'^'eer ArtiUeiy at 

had gone on with it wh^™ f .., ^^T"^ ,compl«cently, "if i 

Duke ta. nerh™ ! uZt^t ^^^ ^^"^i ^^^^ 'te 

Vaugfin d^ not knnl^wS^ """S" have happened." 

^ evely.Ven^ntCnXsSTr'^w'' "^ '^ "^^^ "^^ 
did not gpeak. And BronXm ZV j -'I*- "'" f"' ^^^- Ho 
with a hi:^« eithe fcirw„'^^"^°"?'«P«'°«'. 
fk'rte of his black coot fallhi^lo fh. ^^ "P"?^ '"'' 'ho 
him, resumed. ^ '" '"* ^°°'^ on either side of 

. V "'"'- 'th^S? ^1^ 'C r "£ "•« ^««^-- •' ho 
always light, mv fS 1t ' *»';. Yanghan. Light? Ay 

motto. For mwlf" h«'«>nr^'^''»'''' ^' 'hit bo ou^ 

it in hand tha?El»o™fZh ,f ™«"'y,.."I have taken 

. and by God's heln^H i ? "^ ''S" "e^^"" l*:k light aijain- 

Ij^-abontl And nottL^l °.,'""'^ ^"^"'« BiU I'U brile it 

'^corrnptt^^Altt vZS»'^''l°' '°"«° ^^^ngh" 
bnming "tacksXnd "^17 WSi"";, % nor the bUzerf 
above all, Mr. VanXn iaT™„f ' "*.'''"?S. ig>iorant-ay, 
ediication, the light of a^f^^^S ZV 1 .^"^ "^o ''g'" "^ 
n-ent and hones! reprc.e^Sio^|„'y «^^ o^,^"^^^^^ 

c 



CHIPPINGE 



never know. anytLS'" ^^"1'^ » whit pn/oat. "Ho 

-or the other. tr:faUdv:US:\i^^f^ one J^" 

Mr. Vanghan," he said, "have v™ „^ .u ''?** "ttention. 

I'urhament ? " ' ""''^ 7o<» ever thooght of entering 

Tho prMMct, roddenlv Vneny wfn^J"^' "■■ *•»' ^ ««7. 
^'YoM.'"""y"'"'oW>|;'"«J«» t,m. He mutter^ 

Mntly the™ will be T^to^L\'°\.'">'' » 'he time P^ 
-"Of men, and the rood w™t ^witS?"! """^ " <«wd rf 
"Bpinrnt. Yon are nortTyoS,,, pf ^^ ""« "-WK of 

/or him-that he W te r3'°\"l.'*.' '"«'• W wen, 

lonl. am notpplfl-''' " '""^ "^^ "^^ h mj 

not much th7^^"?or*?r^\'^* » ^""t «neer. "But 
any oonnectio. ^CJS^n^t^^V'-^ Jhat if yon C 

Vanehan shook his head " t^^ ''°^ " '^« '™c." 
n.7.con.^n. Sir Bobert Vem„ydeV?^' °°°''' '"' '^'- "««>?' 
ina,S5^^^^.«'"-PP^^?" the Chancellor exoluimed. 

mouthed age. And he "^'"h^'^- . ^' """ »<" » aealy- 



fi 



THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM ,, 

.m a Who' St,:'^b. dear, dear 1 » he «id. » J 

»e with ote^Horo'fVar tt '& " <!* 



s;&nT'^^"^"«iV 



-Lict me Bee— 



of election in the Allmln a^A f' P''""* "I- Kiffht 

who hold their pla^ C"ufo%StT'"'*'"'^. 
teen. P.f«,» o.f „ , '"'.?"'• ^^"^Der of roters, thir- 

of Stapylton 



-j^.o:vK^^4^-^ 



turn from his knee, he^ . "^ ^ ^^' *^^e it in 

under 20^0'!'^ P^l^rmei.:?'"'"^''^^'""'' *« Popniation 
Cooke, on nomS of sS'EXtel^'*''\'^'^ «" 
to obige Lord Eldon, theKby DnIh™^''l2.iK''''' ^°™«' 
?f Bilfj nothing to be ho^ V,S^»r* ^ "PPonenU 
interest divides tie comSdZ 'J"""' .The fiowood 
nine, bat has not sncwS^in J^i"?' P«>P<'rtion of four to 
election of nil-SHe^ion ^n^T- " '^T^ ^^<^ 'ho 
interest is » ^""°"- ■'^''* •»«"■ to the Vermnyden 

Piy he'ULtSJ^l *"" ""'^""^ 'o «"^/ «»« I»ge. 
^^Are yoa the Mr. Vanghw who inherito?" he asked 
"The greater part of the estates-ves." 

l-UnWh^ ^JZo^H\^^^t -^ ^^ chin, 
"don't yon think t"^yoni muTi* 'f ,?'^» " "Me. 
retnrnyoaos... indepTnanSr??."'"^ ^ I*""^<^ '° 
•^Tl'"Lli°"''-'^>^ withteWon. 

-lowly. S^drirhrweTgCh^"i ^JT"""' "'""-^ 
thatlny r^ec°t ^i'^'r^ n^^ t' S^^ f^^h^ ft 



ae 



CHIPPINOE 



initanoe, it ihonld b« nocnaaiy In pMiing th« Bill tltrongk 
tho Upper Home to create new— eh ? " 

He ptoied, looked at Vanffbtn, who laughed ontright. 
"Sir Sobert wonld not crcM the park to rnvc my life, mjr 
lord," he laid. " And I am rare he wonld rather hang outaido 
the White Lion in Chippinge market-phMW than roaign hia 
opinioni or hia boroagh I ' 

" He'll loee the Utter, whether or no," Brougham aniwered, 
with a touch of irritation. "Waa there not aomo tronble 
abont hia wife ? I think I remember lomethiDg." 

" They were aeparated many yean ago." 

" She ii alive, uahe not?" 

"Yea." 

Brongham law, at tbii itage, that the ubject waa not 

Eitlatable, and be abandoned it. Altering hia bearing abruptly, 
flnng the hooka from him with the reckleaaneai of a ooy, 
and he railed hia lombre figure to ita height. 

"Well, weU," he aaid, "1 hoped for better things : bat I 
aa Tommy Moore aingi — 

He's pledged himielf, tlumgh ton bereft 

or wayi ud ine«iu of raUng ill. 
To make the moet of what an left. 

And etlok to all tbat'i ratten itlU t 

And, by the Lord I I don't lay that I don't respect him. I 
respect even man who votes honestly as ho thinks." And 
gnndly, and with appropriate gestures, be spouted — 

* Who epanu the expedient for the right 
Bctnne monay*! all-attnotiTe ehuou. 
And through mean orowdi that clogged hit flight 
Hae nouy eleared hie conquering arms. 

That's the Attomey-OenertJ's. He turns old Horace well, 
doesn't be ? " 

Vaoghan coloured. Young and candid, he could not bear 
the thought of taking credit wuere he did not deserve it. 

" I fear," he said shyly, " that would bear rather hardly on 
me if we bad a contest at Chippinge, my lord. Fortunately, it 
is unlikely." 

" How would it bear hardly on you ? " Brongham naked, 
with interest. 

" I have a vote." 



THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM 
.ur^i^'!'' •" ""■" "' «"' '""'^^ bo-Ke-e.?" i„ a tone of 
Th^'J"^ '"T?" °' **'>• Robert." 

and deteminod wW*. in"^ w'M"?^''ef'"°To,7f;.thJn. 
I-oave it I And, belies C rnn-if^ ^ *""• ^^ *^ P**' 
continued loftilj. •< We J^ «Z " ""^ "P*"' "• I." ho 

tell Ton that thJtCg fa tS«ri;i3»*'7°.' "■«""' ""d I 
Vanghan felt himMlf mk^ii^'?'"** 'bat price." 

."And vet." he WW, "aw 7t^'' ^°' be ma<fe » fight. 

" WeTy^°" '"" con«;i.„oe-to oblige »me one ? " 

Jc-l^oufdlrflrj^fljpJl^T^^^^ which a 

Wronger for the OatholL oSS?^ih.„ r """^' ."o "n*" »«• 
a Jesnit to be a man of hon™r A^7Jf' ^ ^° "»' bold 
difference lio«. T^, bT"L /^^ "'J:' " ''bere the 
change from the lof ^ to the cnnfl/"^ 'f ""I' ''''b a qnick 
a fact, Mr. Vanghan. 'in '29 ™°^v*?''^' .'«' ">« te" you 
Mr. Cornelius ?^' ^^-^nt it u, April or Uay of '29, 

My 1<« of good'hSmour^ "bnt^^ "i^"'?' '"P'i*^' "''bont 
Mr. Vanghan, the Dnke offered me th„Y "'.^l"^ "^ '^^' 
a yew clear for life, and coShkw-fif ^""^ "bich ia £7000 
Itwonid have .niKeT^l '^'''^"^^'beCommong. 
and the Honwof 1^,^ It^ .k*'^"^ ^^^ 'ban the Seal, 
yon. at which I waTaimine ^ '^« P™f' '».be frank with 
was making his rirrhtXn^f^ as, at that time, the Doke 
and WRB beTng sup^rted bv o^.T \^' -S^^bc qnestion, 
U with an ap!«aSr^ ^^^'en?' Wdl^'" ^P^^ 
"t. I did not, though mr refZl iS^'n^S li^ °?' ^^ei* 
one any good. But there I ^.k\.^ "i?*'^' ""^ <Ud no 
w.th a smile, and hefehL Cnd.'"''^"oCr''' '"''= ^''• 

lou won't forget that, I am crtain. And yon may be su« 



Il 



33 CHIPPINGE 

I shall remember von. I am pleased to have made your 
acquaintance, Mr. Vaughan. Decide on the direction, politics 
or the law, in which yon mean to pnsh, and some day let mo 
know. In the mean time follow the light! Light, more 
light ! Don't let them lure yon back into old Giant Despair's 
cave, or choke you with all the dead bones and rottenness and 
foulness they keep there, and that, by God's help, I'll sweep 
out of the yforld before it's a year older I " 

And still talking, he saw Vanghan, who was mnrmnring 
bis acknowledgmenta, to the door. 

When that had closed on the young man. Brougham came 
back, and, throwing wide his arms, yawned prodigiously. 

" Now," he said, " if Lansdowne doesn't effect something in 
that borough, I am mistaken." 

" Why," Cornelius muitered curtly, " do yon trouble about 
the borough ? Why don't yon leave those things to the 
managers ? " 

"Why ? Why, first because the Duke did that last year, 
and you see the result— he's out and we're in. Secondly, 
Comey, because I am hke the elephant's trunk, that can tear 
down a tree or pick up a pin." 

"But in picking np a pin," the other granted, " it picks up 
a deal of something else." 
"Of what?" 
"Dirt I" 

" Old Pharisee I " the Chancellor cried. 
JJr. Cornelias threw down his pen, and, turning in his 
seat, 0{)ened fire on his companion. 

" Dirt I " he reiterated sternly. " And for what ? What will 
be the end of it when yon have done all for them, clean and 
dirty? They'll not keep yon. They use you now, but you're a 
new man. What, you— yow think to deal on equal terms with 
the Devonshires and the Hollands, the Lansdownes and the 
Enssells I Who used Burke, and when they had squeezed him 
tossed him aside ? Who used Tierney till they wore him and 
his fortnne out ? Who wonld have used Canning, but he did 
not trust them, and so they worried him— though they were 
all domb dogs before him— to his death. Ay, and presently, 
when you have served their turn, they will cast you aside." 
" They will not dare I " Brougham cried. 
" Pshaw I You are Samson, but you are shorn of your 
strength. They have been too clever for you. While yoo 



THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM ,3 

SlSa^^TlS/S'l-'^ar. Har^ Brougham waa 
the Lords, where yo\^ni^vft,in ' S"" ^°°l' ''"°. "^« '™P. '""> 
will have as mnc • cT rt^t)^ 1??'^ spou and spout, and it 
the bars of its oa^ c '• ^ "" "*''°g "^ » l«rf'8 w!ngs against 

^"Al^lSS---.itter. 

are in Ernest. YoJ are hone^t^.tnT °^ '¥ P«°Pl«. YoJ 
of education, of X^ Bat^J"/r°",S[.''"*°<=''°«=°'. 
Mcept to AIhorp,who i; thfc w,. ""T ^^''ig'-^ve and 
and to Johnny &Zu "hoh If^ ,^":^' "^ '>°''««' """". 
words, stalking-hoS the L^n= fanatio-these are bnt catch- 
fashion of thefrTaS andZfr,^^ J^.^ "'^^ "■« "l"" "W 
grandfathers, they thbk to crp^n^f *•'""''" ^^ their great- 
form means he repr^enta?inn n? /S^ P^T*"": ^^f"™' « «- 
rule of the peopnrthe wo^ or h^'^'l^^ '^ P«°P'«. 'he 
families-wij^ the very tShtt •'^/"y b"' the old landed 

Brougham stoDZ^inr^""' "^""^"^ '"*''« ">«» s'ct I " 
right," hrS 3ely ^" P^'°«f *^ '^^ ^'°- " ^ou are 

1^' Yon acknowledge it ? " 

foUheightiar^^^^^^^ to his 

it herelor monthlfAy and ttt tT'' " ^ ^""^ ^"^-^ 
that they would Zt ZL to f^^*^^ ^ ''T ''"°™ *» ■"y»«lf 
and Sheridan, and TiXv »^' "1** '^^^^ "^ted Burke, 
Canning, I kke7itl,Tj'u^i^, tiiey would have treated 
Mymother-«y m,!,M t.i'l' "y.hid; I knew they would. 

oat of the ^li thJre kn^w it'^n^"""^> "^?. '^^Wde 
" Then whv^; J „ ' ^ • *"^ warned me." 

" Why't 1^ &h"eiild°ed'™ ' ^T^ ^ " ^°"«'«'» "^ed. 

" BecausTmrk yon '^K.^""' '''f V" "re helpless ? " 

not, they had" ^t bDht n fcrn^^f f"'^ 7^ I '"^ 

"'• tn'?'^ ''"4' ai^entvtl" "^ ""'^' 
.tren^?"" ^°" ^*'" ""« «»« prison-tdW^orn of your 

bril^'^rfjr '°"'*^ "' '^ "''•> " «'«"> of ferocity in his 
" Ay.' he «ud, '■ I did. And by that act," he continued, 



24 



CHIPPINGE 



Ktretching his long arms to tlieir farthest citcnt, "mark 
yon, mark yon, never forget it, I avenged ail-not only 
all I may suffer at their hands, but aU that every slave 
who ever ground in theii- mill has suffered, the sliithts, the 
grudg^ meticulous office, the one finger lent to shake— all, 
all I 1 went into the prison-house, but when I did so I laid 
By hands upon the pillars. And their house falls. I hear it— 
I hear It falling even now about their ears. They may throw 
me aside. But the house is falling, and the great Whi<r 
fellies— ponf !— they are not in the heaven above, or in thS 
earth beneath or in the water that is under the earth. Yon 
call Eeform their stalking-horse ? Ay, but it is into their own 
Troy that they have dragged it ; and the clatter of strife yon 
hear IS the knell of their power. They have let in the waves 
of the sea, and dream fondly that they can say where they 
shall stop and what they shall not touch. They may as well 
speak to the tide when it flows ; they may as well command 
Im! r w^ "^/^ ™S*' they may as well bid Hume be 
silent, or WethereU be sane. You say I am spent ; and so I 
may be. I know not. Bat this I know ! N^ver again will 

fl^^t^^-'T^u^"' /°u^ ^' g°^"'' •""! 'Dol^and he 
doeth, as n the old world that is passing— passinK this minute 
passing with the Bill. No," he '^tinnelThroling out hto 
arms with passion, " for when they thought to fool me, and to 
shut me dumb among dumb things behind the gilded wires, I 
thei^ rid^"'" ""^ ^"^Si^S down their house npon 

..Tw ^°™^1™ "taffd at him. "By G-d 1 " he said. 

Jn fW*T?K" T. "^'''' ^.'^^^^^ '^' yo" «« a cleverer 
man than I thought you were." 



CHAPTER III 

TWO LETTEnS 

BMl^i''^r.,°'L^:'i? "jfbu' to.choose a^^'Jeef t'o 
bestows ThuT < ' !rL ^'^•'«»'.P''«' ''•'ich it could 

at WK th« hP,I? °f i° ^ "P*<="^ *•"" he should 
AndTwafmrn-h tt.f .^^''J*^ '^' ^^*^*' "^ "™« otto's. 
r^t'^sZttbi^^lyS'-^^ " h" ' '•>«' •« ^^ left the 

moSf the^'^S 2f//^ ,"!' name trouble him nntU the 
uioruMg 01 tue 27th, fire days later-a Wednesday. Then he 



*^ CHIPPINGE 

SomSg'of"''"' P""^ '""^ '«'^« ^^^ 'bo post. 
"What's afoot ? " he muttered. 

fiKt 'ah^ \f. " PfT",? ^^"""^ ^° '^'•"Iffi "10 seal of the 
tht: ""* '^'^ °°' ^^ ^'^ T^e letter ran 

„Tv o T "Stapylton,Chipping9. 

matfni j^^w^^JT^ "*^® "° ^Po'oey ^or troabling you in a 
matter m which your interest is second only to mine and 

marK It has not been necessary to require your presence 
fnw)t?r^* T" ^^' ?^'°" of former elections. Sut thi 
unwholesome ferment into which the public mind has been 
MSt by the monstrous proposals of Minister has nowhX K 
more strongly exemphfied than here, by the fact that, forTb" 

fhf l^^.?.^^ ^r"S^' *.« "g''^ of our family to nom nato 
he members for the Borough is challenged. Since the year 

i,m -7'°"? ^^'^f*- ^ ^"^ "nade to disturb the ter' 
ZchfcalRTt^ A"'' l,^"' y^' ^ '"^^^ that-short of thL 
?nf S^n^i™ f ' "^""l ""^^ "^^ ""^ay »11 "»« privileges attach- 
7su^T ^~'"°'' "* ""'""P^ •=*" ^ J^e with any clmSce 

sumbV™ 'f ^r!?'' "^^^^'l^eleM. that Lord Lansdowne, pre- 
snmmg on a small connection in the Corporation, intends to 

weS^ nn/ L i^^\ ^'"' fT*"^ «°> '""We yon to ^ pre^nt, 
Sbition of nnf i"^ ^ discourage these' attempts by the 
fmtorten?t^!ln .^ M strength, and were it not stiU more 
is aUteke " '"°' '*'"'''' ''^^'"^ 0^ ">« Bo'o-gh 

made^^l'r'^j'" "PP^'^ ?»" °f «>« arrangements to be 
•h^uld know R P ^?" "^"i:""^ °f "" "^"^re which you 
hour of vnnr 3 ^^^ T?S^> ^ ^t Mapp learn the day Li 
ftour of your arrival, and he will see that the carriage md 
^Ztu r v""," S"^^ "' Chippenham. ProbaS^n wiU 
come by the York House. It is the most convenient. ' 
I have the honour to be 
" Your sincere kinsman, 

"fioBKUT VsKMUYDBir. 



17, Buy Street, St. JamraV" ^ ' 



♦ 



TWO LETTERS gj 

BDeecWthA''^' .'^'' """''"•^d. And he thought of his 

hia co^i^Kr^fanf^r \ ^'nZ/r ^^--^ ^™'«' 

"High Stroot, Cliippingo, April 25, I83I. 
" Chippinge Parliammtarij Election. 

intirn...tKu\rn/JrySr '°"°"'^^ «'^' *° 

Si" ^"' '^ ''^""•"'^«'' -'" bo taken after tKu^' 

pnB;;tr4^tf„j£a^%:tn.°' '"^ """^^"^"'^ ^'" "^ 
" I have the honour to be, Sir, 

" Your hmnble obedient servant, 
.. A^u ^ "Isaac White. 

there wm to bTwid.^ '^^"^ lU-fortnne, that was all 

himTlittte rn^ri^^'?*^"*** ''^ "?««'' ' It tad committed 
mm a little more deeply, but morally ho had been committed 



CHIPPINGE 



^°^- ^' |s » poor conscience that •' not scrnDulnn. (r. 

name of cCcel^sSn™ wuM'V.'*?*^ *« 
oT„^^"4r^£^H S^ ?■ fl'-wn'e^'fS; 

longer btd^Hve^ of a'totTthe stj^X^" ^""''^ "" 
the^^bts of^ne small S ^"ve^^f tht 4rJ°o?^^ ^.^ 



and^: :^ fs^^T^ir ' ^°'^' '''^'" ^°^ "^''"^ ^ '^^e'^ .• 

go through with it r"^' I' ^'U be odious 1 But I must 
prolted'biZ"olSm"!hr"^ ^''"" '''« '=''«« ^W* had 

ffaftS3?f^r^~^^^^^^ 

fashioned and thetater^t^ ttn .rli'T "j* ''•>i'=li 'he old- 
a change so great and^^Af™. P™^?'?°<1 'he timid, viewed 
persona? TT» i? * 5 .u '^ical. But his ma n objection was 



TWO LETTERS ,, 

a?! In ta^l'^o'fZnr''^ ,',''•' «WcL to reproach 
virtuoua, aad the momenttc'rl''''f^'''' ^^^ b™^" ""^ very 
the coach office anffiw «,„?!? f'""" ^rf-Wast he went to 
able Bath coa?h wag f „?1 tt f 'n ^"'^ ^l""^' '!"« f™'^'"''- 
outside seaTon' Z Bristol WhS'T'-^ '^''^' ^ '«'"'«^ ■"> 
passed through Chippenhlm P^l p.?" "T''' ^''''='' "^ 
iVdiBtantaseortnin^PSt <^'»"PPenham, Chippingo 

^/o''i::aniitt^drw% ^"^ 'i^* ^"'^ 

of the Disaolatior; ZrSnnr wS?- ^«f°''?e« in honour 
violence on the m,t of thn^^k T''''^ ^^ drunkenness, 
minority. WherVaulhan ™«'/°i "^.^ ' '•"= "^^ of 'te 
siz nex[ morS;rh3 w^to the°'\lh>"''T?''^'^>f°" 
traces of the nigh 's work stm™m»n.^ ^"5 Horse Cellars., 
sun feU on them showed ii !il J ""^ ' "^"^ ''^^''^ <■'"' e«rfy 
reformer migKe bl^eSd ItTht S^r""!; ^ '^'^<=™'» 
asmanydidque8tion-wWh^»t- s'ght and qnestioned- 
was latiand^htcSaohTone outofX^''l"«A ButVaughan 
to start, was horeed Kb i, J i ™*® ^^^°^ '«''« «'a'tmg 

mute apology, and toorWs It "^^^^^^"^^ tis^t ia 
miracle^ad hapwned as m;™^L ^^\'*'^ "° ''"'*• But a 
is young. In TiTmind, as Tsit dnwn ?P*"' "^"^ '^' ""'^ 
" What a nuisance !"h,?l,=. ""' .°'""'. ^e was not repeating, 

facel AndTHSvenlwhrbeSf' vwt'/r' ^^"^ » 
What a lovely mouth 1 '• ^ ' ^^ ""^ blush-rose cheeks ! 

For ■twos from eyes of liquid blue 
A liost of qniTcred Oupii flew 

who^'sffla^hTtdta^srirf ™r ""^ '"■^'^'•'^ 

start. And apDarentW h.L ' '^"^'"^ *" ««« *e coach 
the .me l^^^X^X.^ll.i^S-A'f.Z 



30 



CHIPPINGE 



instant nto his, ofa mo<l«t f^. V ? ?*4 '<~ked tor one 
like bonnet thS mM^,^ „&„!1f ' ""^ j''^' »' » Qtaker- 
the most snsceptib ™ °° """' ''°'"'" •>«> evw^^Uhed 

voice. :tr did^r ;"i^s v: t fi' "f ^ " -'™-d 

yonng ladj's address " p7e^ iy ^1^"^ .HT'^: " Tt^ 
the laundress 1" ^'^^ say that she a not left it I For 

flntterat^hish.r^S^i'L^dr^^^^^^^^^ a .ny 

wants^:Sr"^>'' «"<^' ""■>' there isUe ine below who 
oep S Sr" '^'^ "^^ °" J""- •""» tis heart gave a per- 
facJ^'lfhlKt"the»mo^.?1?' '" " ^o'-* "« ""^t ■« h« 

»«. "See, therrsKr '"' ""' laundress," he 

perfo^ltnt;?rosfhii°°''TTT'" 't f^S "l '^' «»'=•'. «"d 
waist and tpmA<^ T fe' *« ^ ""^ '"""derest 
seeing. Then & p™^i, S^ j •^**^ ^"^^^ opportunity of 
not steadFed hei^lfZivtfw't'' V'*'.'?"^" ''"^ ^ad 
must have reSi on hi ^ ^" ^?°"^. °° ^'» shoulder, she 

into her I^atttlthed ^'^- ^' '' ^'«' *« ^«=" l*^* 
"I beg your pardon," she said. 

who^fflain"^ inS^'^- ^'■^'^ ^^ ^^^ «■> ">« woman, 
apparenTr^kiig a bvS?'»S^f '°^ f''" ''"^ '=<"«='' »°<^ 
perha™ where it ftopr ** ° respecting it- 



TWO LETTERS 
iweet primness-" c"coDtthoL?r; »''""« Pr'^ly-but with 

down t'^, pf^'ffid o^m We«SV 'T. T^' ^'"'"^ 
trottin? mcrrihr iinH 7h» T^ -f ^«^ 'J? "''th the four nam 

Then merril/u7tho 4e to Kwu pT^n'''^ ^"^'^ P'"'^- 

Constitation Hill: and whe™T™?i h '^'"tu^ '"''"'"='' o'> 
"the Duke." hidiLrwith »I ^.'^ ^.^^T' ""' residence of 
brick walIs!'pee™d^thTl.rthet™r'.l^''' '"°'"' '•«= »« 
erec^d tenV'^MrthV^Vont.'^^^^ "^ ^'''""-• 

even at^&UhonTw,i''i'' '^^'"^°'' ">" "°''d '!«»' 
and engaf The^atntir nW?:" I^oli^'^v^'^r 
looked and saw that every blind in d!l u Vaughan 

and that more than half of X w^/„^ ^ ^°T """ '"^-^d, 
the little French gentleman whrMTr''°l^'^''^- ^nd 
had taken the boi-sSt ^w ft?L *^^ ^o^fbman's disgust, 

the iron hand ! He vill l^ the FrL^"'*"^''-''^ ^"1 have 

pondered on the spectacle ^„! „?' -^"".^''"'e- no doubt, 
be.ide him, and befKto a font d«v!» !?'•'' ^P'^''^ '«« 
shin ng river over hill »^ ^ ° ""^.^ "^"^o •'T mead and 

church^es and^71^;"a''^arkenC°n''/'i'' ""'■'^ <" ^^ 
who would long'dwelf onXn«?™ ^"'^.''"^'7''"'-y«^- 
because in the womb nfH-J^^*.P*?? *"■ '° w*™ ? Or fret 
whiohtheli'ttl'ePr^ncI^a^'s^^;f' "^ that « refolution " of 



CHAPTEB IV 

TANTIVY I TANTIVY! TANTIVY I 

whence the travel ershadTrLn T?i ^? KeM.ngton Chnrcli, 
the Whigs-oTther r^hL^nS ,^ • House-home of 
were 8wiuifiorthro,ah*H- ^ 'A"' '" » '"inkling they 
were oJilng^ndT^???^"?"'^^' •"''•""' "•« "'"-^"-"^ 
milk. ¥he/p "».d throui.1 rj^.^Sinmug to deliver the 
awakening evef, here the"filvl°^S'ir' "'^°"«'' Brentfor., 
They saw^Sion Hoie on Sr ilrV" J""''" ^' ""='' horn 
a glimpse of the dtont tawns oj^* °\l:^'" "»'" ^ad 
Jersey, queen of AlZck4 3 fL n^'f^T^"'''.'**' »' ^^3 
thejrtra'velled over Znnlw H^ k °^^^^^^ rival ThencJ 
cession of mansions and Cn^nn^ 'i. 'I °l ?" ^'''^'e" "«<!- 
with apple U™Mm ^d f™^!n.?i°'*'^«\"'='» »' 'Ws season 
sparkline TWT' ^'"^ '''«' "°'' ">«'« » view of the 

Vanghan breathed the air of unrimr o-^i i » t- 
on scene after scene • and hefp^I »K' ^^ '*' ]^ 7« ^"e" 
and to sit behiKt horses H« ^ i" "", «<»<» to fce yonng 
hour, and iud-red by the SShfno '?'? * 8^^'"=« »' ^ neigh- 

and rapt eipr;^io„^ tt' Lffrwltir'h''.T'^% 
have said somethine to hpr hni il i?\,_. , ° ''« '*'onW 
worthvof her. At test- ' '*"''' """'' "^ "<>'»'"g 

vapidiy! * '^""^"' ■^'""^S'" he ventured, and cu«ed his 

lifnn"" tl ^^ "*" T"^. ^ fi°^ bathos in the words « Beau 
she"'lLdtate"ntr dl?" ^nthnsiasm which showed th^t , 

« coach like ?^^S' "" "^^ ^'^Pham Stage. And that is not 



M 



TANTIVY, TANTIVY! TANTIVY! 



.nd:^; S^n'ol52^ ^, A^ he tbl.,. .,f u" 
jiomothiDg about her. aboutTor m? Zl 1 L'*''/" "'««' "'« 
(fenUenciM, which smacked of r^«l' ""^ "■'j'"! d«»M, aud her 
"ho was and what she wm- and hS^' .^^ '"-Jo'*^ "''o 
ja^o turned her ejea on Wm and .eZ„w"" '"'"'^!="°? '^'"■•>' 
*iy "hock through him ' ""'^ MconMiongrBcnt a 

.-nllli^fflnVe'rnS'-'''^ ""' '"'^'^ '-' «- -t 
" Oh yes 1 " *• 

however, that she had t-trnod rnl 7^ '""Fe-tied. Seein?. 
the view of Windsorrisin. .taT^-'i •.'"'" ^^'^°^ "' 
cleverness to steal a Klanw auh« L^ ? . "T"' ''" ^"^ "'« 
l.er feet. 8»r«ptitio«„srhe"^%r„aS'nTK£l?"^ "' 
Mary Smitk, 
Mies Sibson's, 

Qneen's Square, Bristol. 

' Vivun Grey "-to'coipleto the trl ^f' ""^l '\*. »""«>' "f 
fashion at the time-woX We tnr„.^ T*'* "'"='' ''«e in 
what did it matter? He dS„"mn"P^i.""^"*''- »■>' 
"elf agreeable for the few hTu« AIkT ''''? '? """^^^ him- 
creatnre must pass tomher ?n .^nV"" '"1 '"» bean«f«l 
^Mlandsca^lidilg bT7hl^^l^^^ ""« ^^^ 

need he reck whrt Ihe caM heS of wi; ^'" ^^^ '»• 'l"' 
was enough that under her mS b^nn!??"* '''* '^""^ ' It 
«^d her eyes pure cornflower ^ tt?»f ",*™ ""« «''««" 
httle Wl dalliance-if only'tW tLJ'"^^"^?} ""'ds, a 
P^P^ behmd him and grin"l^a tetrheTot r th^^ 

f;'Uurn^^'t:P&^n,^«iyP<^%"ot always recur. As he 

[ -5"<'g«. had on either hand a ^'f.r'-* °/ Maidenhead 
gwn willows, and halted J^^.J i- * "r"" ^"""^ « pale 
• Ws Arms.^ ^e bTo^ti^anJd'ltFf """^ "^f"" '^e 
|,, -d rea^ a holder againsft*^r"llR ^^ 

s 



34 



CHIPPINGE 



conmt|thflt hTneeded ^^ """ ''"'"S'" P*^" »"m the 

«»id" "^know'lbrinV"V?? ' ?'«<"> "'tl'o table?" he 
hand! .„d aide^Ktr dSiT'-"'' "«"' ' «"'"• ""'« 

attendant damMlf And ZJ h« LS""^"^?"*^ °"'' °f^*« 
coffee get before her he to^t hi,„Li/'^ ,T" ''" "«"«d and 
end of the room. Bnt Wh^fhii'Sf '.' ,?*''^™'«'7 ^ '^e other 
^or her fcelin« or beca^ he thontu'*' "".'^ PT "^J^' 
on the thonX-that hr^nnu S^ '^'^'~?°.^ '""^^ hinielf 
Nor wa. he ,o much a a.X tl,^ TT'' •■' '^''^"°' >'°°''- 
rolh she ateVaSd loofflT- '^°?f^ •»« ^^-wted how many 

at h3 « to'be Ztt malr^ Se^t b'^ik^t" """'^ 

.nd^on?:/^be°aa'ntV ''l,'*?r"'^^' --^ 
wind Vand ^1 ."Slhin^ oSwd^-wWelrM^ "^^^ 
the np nieht-coach wnro .it^j-T • , . "* "*•" team of 

-heVonSe^owTtTuSh^Z'/""' ??*"«■" ^"^^ 
this Bide of Hfe And fW ^S-i E ' ^'^ J** ''^«'» «*nes and to 

had ri«n from the table and^l''L?°°''«^ H«'' "^ *" 
waiting-maids To r^ the dZ^v.'°? 5° "'^^ °°« "^ *e 
and, ol bliss, her e^^fnnn^T ^^ T i° I»« "ear him ; 
blushed, ye^vens I HbT^-.^V","^ ^^ Unshed. She 
abont i LTZL^il^ZJ^. "^"^J' "^^ he sat thinking 
another five mnZ^ and hftiT °°' "^"^ *° ■*"' ^" 
summoning him he was tak™ J??^' f™' <»> *« gnarf 
-teal hi"l^t. And hTh,fSSS o^t "^ '^' '""'« «" ^°^^ 

watf:tronlTf the*tw'^P f , t '"'«"'• '^<' » yo-t^fnl 
eyesathertotbedel^hnrh!. '°'**'''-™ ^'''^' "«« making 



TANTIVY, TANTIVY, TANTIVY, 

happened. The eye of an Mid« «J!."'*""^'l°f "">« » U>i° 
him throngh the 'doorC aZhlST'''^",: '^° '""' fo"o««1 
hnnR tehind the coach. ^' *'"*^ '"' * ''"«<' placard which 

Xhot must 1)0 removivl ! " n,„ l 
And inan,omentall e^«„e' '^° "'pngwcriod pomponslj. 

« down, Bir," he continTi<.,l t^Jl- *«• you hear mo ? TatA 

pre.en^tlybeBoodkrttcmJ^'P'"'''*' » ""« -ho ;onld 

"Don.tTrm^'^p'^Vhat.^'^^haf^l'' '^fi?'-''""'"' "'orted. 

—what right have von Ln fj? . °° *'"» i' ? ^at riX 

a pnblio vehicle in wfi !«;'?. P?i f^y filth lilc. K„ 

BiT. and nothing bnt the B?S', ^ n^" ' ' V"' ^'^' 'he wholS 

violence. " Tale ?t down TakeT". "•' ^"'' "' ' " ^^ 

rep«jted, a, ,7 his order clo^ the matter '^ at once," he 

prinS tWegeWich'tS^^P^S- Which bon, largely 

£«ta,te. He^rnbbJhiihti^ "wTr'r^ Attlf^ 

t^ «'iJ .iud then-thecro,^-abou7th« .^S' '"'•^' ■''" 

^^he^^tca ut the co.ehn.an. '"At^i^i^^f. 

torj'h^ hiLi!^" ^^''^'^ "-e coachman, without deigning to 

"Mi^.tehSi'^g«JX'''^JK.mtu«.l civilly. 
{«\n wd be full. AndVwe^nV ^*^ *°^'>J'- Tfo 

broken windows-we'll^J Tat r '"^' '°"*° '88" ""^ 

. 1 u not travel with if i •• n,_ i . 
?«"tively. «Do yorheai ' t '^""rf""*"""" '""'"'red 
down I will I " -^ " "ear me, man ? If yon don't take it 

<»«h^lnd':L:fhe%;S'rt^ ""■" --<» about the 
'poke. ..B«t not,.. cr^ranSI'thinrhl^.'" Zd^t 



I 



3« 



CHIPPINGE 



wheeled about again, so nnickly that the crowd laughed. 
This raised his wrath to a white heat. 

He grew purple. " I shall have it taken down I " ho said. 
" Guard, remove it ! " 

" Don't touch it," growled the coachman — one of a class 
noted in that day for independence and surly manners. " If 
the gent don't-choose to travel with it, let him stop here and 

be d d ! " 

" Do you know," the insulted passenger cried, " that I am 
a Member of Parliament .' " 

" I'm hanged if you are ! " coaohee retoi-ted. "Nor won't 
be again 1 " 

The crowd roared at the repartee. The guard was in 
despair. "Anyway, we must go on, sir,'-' hcsaid. And ho 
seized his horn. Take your seats, gents ! Take your seats ! " 
he cried. " All for Beading I I'm sorry, sir, but I've to 
think of the coach." 

"And the horses!" grumbled the coachman. "Where's 
the gent's sense ? " 

They all scrambled to their seats except the ex-member. 
He stood, bursting with rage and chagrin. But at the last 
moment, when he saw thatAhe coach would really go without 
him, he swallowed his pridef plucked open the coaoh-door, and 
amid the loud jeers of the uowd, .climbed in. The coachman, 
with a chuckle, bade the helpers let go, and the coach swung 
cheerily away through the streets of Maidenhead, the merry 
notes of the horn and the rattle of the pole-chains drowning 
the huzzas of the gutter-boys. 

The little Frenchman turned round. "Yon will have a 
refolution," he said solemnly. "And the gentleman inside 
he vill lose his head." 

The coachman, who had hitherto looked askance at Froggy, 
as if he disdained his neighbourhood, now squinted at him ; 
he could not quite make him out. 

" Think so ? " he said gruffly. " Why, mounseer ? " 

"I have no doubt," the Frenchman answered glibly. 
" The people will have, and the nobles, they vill not give 1 
Or they vUl give a leetle— a leetle I And that is the worst 
of all. I have seen two refolutions I" he continued with 
energy. " The first when I was a child— it is forty years 1 
My bonne held me up and I saw heads fall into the basket 
—heads as young and as lofly as the young Mees there I And 



TANTIVY I TANTIVyi TANTIVY- 
t^ me all that I hadi The ° I't ^m'T" '"" '""h 

the «e^Tltve'^'«„ ^ - whUranV^ small a, 
i^ewhat ,o„ .11 PnmrriW.n^-.fct; 

a f^^ie:'$yZ'a^^^^^.^^J, "nW he commands! 
or Bome second "W C&''^h" ' 1' "''«'" ^e^z^ 
horees and relieved his feeS^k,-*?''*" ^^ '°™"i '* his 
below the trace ; Xe &a^ wfcr °! ""« ''heelera 
Frenchman had to say, took n| the l^k °^ *" ^"^ "hat the 
giveeitaK W;:,l!ir "ho have wi« give, and 

rBrea^e.thfDXthose^^f'"'^ '"'«''«'^ Posi'ivelv. 
it-Jerusafem House ?" ^ *''^" ""^ P^s-whatyon «,Ii 

of xiSramted-^'*^ '"'^*'^ «^h-„g. "The Dake 

Hoj;e^'rat'^p"'?„VKr^'?.'«y''"««'"'»o'« 

have this for his nefw tSd S t" v^' .h« *«" 'hem. Be 
thing for his ma1t^%%'Mf ^^ fittJ^'^\V'^ ?« "'her 
hjm who rule the country I 6?v« Vp t 1^}h "'he™ like 
towgeokkf Neferl ^er I " hf i^r^ ?? "i*F ^o 'he 
"He will be the Pohgn^T They ,S?M '"V'^Phasis. 
And yon will have a refolntion !„ i h ^ ^^^ Polignacsl 
iourgeoiaie i. friffhtened of IhiT' v, hy-and-by, whin the 
letting, your vS^ he ^m T^^f V'"^ "^ ""' "ood! 
Plam as the two ey^ in theT^I tl"^"^^^- '' « as 
»«'.?*«off my clothes the dg&" ^ P'"" ^°' ">*' ^ »hall 



I 



38 



CHIPPINGE 



and leave it to them, up hill, down hill ? The people govern 
theniBclveg ? Bah ! " And to eiprcss his extreme diegnst at 
the proposition, the Frenchman, who had lost his afl with 
Polignac, bent over the side and spat into the road. " It is 
no government at all 1 " 

The coachman looked darkly at his horses as if he wonld 
like to see them try it on. 

" I am afraid," said Vanghan, " that yon think we are 
m tronble either way then ? Whether the Tories give or 
withhold ? " * 

" Eizer way 1 Eizer way I " the Frenchman answered con 
amore. " It is fate 1 Yon are on the edge of the— what yon 
call it — chvU ! And you must go over I We have gone over. 
We have bomped once, twice I We shall bump once, twice 
more, et voilh — Anarchy I Now it is your turn, sir. The 
government has to be— shifted— from the one class to the 
other I " 

" But it may be peacefully shifted ? " 
The little Frenchman shrugged his shonlden impatiently. 
"I have nefer seen the government shifted without all that 
that I have told you. There will be the guillotine, or the 
barricades. For me, I shall not take o£f my clothes the 
nights I " 

He spoke with a sincerity so real and a persuasion so clear 
tlmt even Vanghan was a little shaken, and wonder^ if those 
who watched the game from the outside saw more than the 
players. As for the coachman, 

t Z ^iSS^ ™®'" ''* "^^ "•"' evening to his cronies in the tap 
of the White Lion at Bristol, " it I feel so sure about this here 
Beform I We want none of that nasty neck-isntting her« I 
And if I thought Froggy was right I'm blest if I wouldn't 
turn Tory I " 

And for certain the Frenchman voiced what the timid and 
the well-to-do were thinking. For something like a bnndred 
and fifty jtun a small class, the nobility and the greater 
gentry, making their advantage of the growing defects in 
the representation— the rotten boroughs and the close cor- 

Ssrations- had ruled the country through the House of 
ommons. Was it to be expected that Uie basis of power 
could be quietly shifted ? Or that all these boroughs and 
eorporations, in which the governing class were so deeply 
intneeted, oonld be swept away without a convulsion ; witliont 



TANTIVYI TANTIVYl TANTIVY. 3, 

these defecte once seen an.1 »h» „r, .v ''/^'^ »' likely that, 
power onco whetterthe lims J^t^ "^ *f"' »Wdle c4s for 
wthont a struggle from wSth«Lff°?''"=°°''^ •>« '«f''»«l 
man could say for certain .^^ u ,^' '"'"' Auich ? N 
The very win/scarrSth^'°%\T «'«tf«« m the X. 
that month of AprU not oSVon tLmv^^V? ^^""^ « 
on the Bath road onlv bnf nn . k i"*! ^'°" coach, not 
hundred roads over tj^ Un^h * 5°?'^''*'^ "o^^^' Md a 
Wherever the s^of Macadam and T^f!!?"' of England! 
ever the gigs of 'ride™- mT """Telford eitended, wher- 

I»riey at^^,andl'rkct"s^i" '^^'t «? ' "^^^^ 
their heads or wised the'; Sin hi A'??! "■«" "'"'ok 
word /&>« rolled down the wkd." '"«'' ''**»'«! """l the 

- ^ neighbour, and" he add'e^ fe' '^^■^' '^'^^ '»'« 'ith 
them alarm yon." he said '^We aw sti ?? """»' "o* k' 
gmllotmes or barricades." ""'' * '""« way from 

afraid;-'"^ -" Bte answered. «In any case I am not 

"^V. if I may ask?" 

heaven to me." ""'' '" '"e sunshine, is Lke 

" Ohl ?r^?i' * "Jf^fatfnl time," he said 

,^^^ ..Well, fortunately, you and I have-much of the morning 

whafC^eUan^wSfiiri t '«"«'^«^ - "^'-ce 
her to enjoy with so keen aT^rfM .''^'^^ ^oniingB and fitted 
np^oach WM coming t^mJfh''^*!^'^nd«; The Gloucester 



t: 



40 



CHIPPINGE 



tiro coaclieB passed amid a voUej of badinage ; and demure ai 
she vos, he wag gnre that she had a store of fun vithin. He 
wished that she wottld remove her cheap thread gloves, that he 
might see i( her hands were as white as thej were small. She 
was no common person, he was sore of that ; her speech was 
correct thongh formal, and her manner was quiet and refined. 
And her eyes — he must make her look at him again I 

" You are going to Bristol ? " he said. " To stay there ? " 

Perhaps he threw too much feeling into his voice. At any 
rate the tone in which she answered, " Yes, I am," was 
colder. 

" I am going as far as Chippenham," he volunteered. 

"Indeed I" 

There I He had lost all the groniid be had gained. She 
lought him a libertine, who aimed at pnttiog himself on a 
;'. -iting of intimacy with her. And that was the last thing- 
confound it, he meant that to do her barm was the lost thing 
he had in his mind. 

It annoyed him extremely that she should think a thing of 
that kind. And he cudgelled his brains for a subject at once 
safe and sympathetic, without finding one. Bnt either she 
was not so deeply offended as he fancied, or she thought him 
sufficiently punished. For presently she addressed bim ; and 
he saw that she was ever so little embarrassed. 

" Would you please to tell me," she said, in a low voice, 
" bow much I ought to give the coachman ? " 

Oh, bless her I She did not think him a horrid liber- 
tine. "Yon?" he said andacionsly. "Why, nothing, of 

" But— but I thought it was usual ? " 

"Not on this i^," he answered, lying resolutely. 
" Gentlemen are expected to give half a crown, others a 
ehiiling. Ladies nothing at all. Sam," he continued, rising 
to giddy heights of invention, " would give it back to yon, if 
you offered it." 

" Indeed I " He fancied a note of relief in her tone, and 
judged that shillings were not very plentiful. Then, " Thank 
Ton," she added. " You must think me very ignorant. Bnt I 
have never travelled." 

" Yon must not say that," he returned. " Bemember the 
Clapham Stage t " 

iihe laughed at the jest, small as it was ; and her laugh 



TANTIVY 1 TANTIVY 1 TANTIVY 1 4, 

Wiagwfiat he might KveLv?1f^J[^^.'''''' "'«" « »« 
^ not begnn to opin brforTZn^ "i" '"*«'* °^ Beading 
was to come. ^ ^ ^^' ""^ K'^e warning of what 

flJ"?'eft:[rnfahWI°^^^^^^^ 
rabble that accomDam^ ■> w^?i "S^ ""« '™n "f «psj 
brought the S^tol eUd Th^"""/.'"*'' "^^ '^^ 
cocked ,..t from time t^ !^r2l rt"^' "^'"^ J^* 
them, barely visible throngh a W „f "a "^"^ ^^ ^fore 
But a troop of mounted gef?rTin5ta,,,l,^ and bannen,. 
dames in oarriages-XIS m^^i'^u'*?^' '^^ "^ «niiling 
thty viewed th?gr^7hands exS*! the d^gust with whicg 
■wV the traveW eySanfflwJ°-'''!?'''''''»'^«-''ere 
tiwd^and false. Our Srtv hl^!^ '" "'' '"""Kht both 
to enjoy the spectacle ¥h.^:Lz7^^'^' ^^^ "ot long at ease 

on. thVsteps.W:kg on%?t\l'S'^ W** «^''' '?' 
noise scared the horses wLh «!•!».- 1 ^^ Presently tfie 
place began to pkn J ' '*' "' ""* *°'™»'» •» the miket- 

trncnkSLSuedortheSeL^l*'' ?''"''• ^nd with 
they bawled, « shout for CbT n^ '^f f • " Y"" 'nbbeis, 
, "All right 1 AU righTl " renii^' ^1' '"^« y" over I " 
horses as well as he csSd ^^^ »T^' «>ntrolling his 
Hurrah I" **'"''• "ere aU for the BUI &rel 

the mob.™«Au^fr '•* *'*'• ^•'"«' '■» tbe river I "cried 

"TheWorevtn°*Vn''t'ir"'' ''"""^ '» «<*o anything 
We;refortheB:aTandw"'v^'rvoD.'^' ^' « P-' 
butohrX":::L3,^,S-'iBhrieked a drunken 




..^nri^hl Hurrah!" 

igh fl^r "'"• °™"^ ^**' ' " •q>«*ked a small tailor in 



a high falsetto. 
The 



'oar of laughter which greeted the «.lly starUed the 



t 



4* 



CHIPPINGE 



horsM afresh. But the guard had dropped down by this time 

th^^T.,*"^"''^"""^./*"?'" seconded Lis efforts. Between 
^. wh,T^ T i;"''.'«J.«'<'^ly b^t ^fely through the 
preflg i which, to do it justice, meant only to eiercuo the 
privileges which the electfon sewon brought with it 



CHAPTER V 
S03r-rnrGEBKD baww 

8li3 nnderatood. " °'°''' '""PHse as plewnre that 

protest agairthf pWd*'i,,f"''°^?'''''ed himself by hig 
paces of the Bear, the S™i..'^~'5L'^«' '^""n » dozM 
ifit had been real. ^mTjT the Z?*^'^ ^T"" ''• 'J'«?«'-i^ 

othe«, leaning ov«th^8ho&'^£?''* '•■« ""«'! 'Me 
paMengers. "°°"'*"' ««ned miMiles at the inside 

-s'i^'' B^k?, tt*t CTd f'n^'jt-^'"" ^' •>« '""lows 
leadera' hsada. Thettlw^™! ° ??''"''^- He wag at the 

"■an kept his head an7his ^7Jf ^'^^^'^- '°<"^"y «>« <!oach- 

ne7ui^ 1^ t y^ '",''« y'lod- " Tom -em in I " 
ho«es wK ;onnd^'a^t,t» f^^^' ^"5 ^"e>»'«»«=<l 
under the low arch, driiSng^e I™5?° !!!! ?'^«°'. da«hed 
. There was a cr^ of?? h|,L i Sf i*^* '^'*' ">«'»• 
imimtirely, " HeSds I St^j " ^^^ ' ^^ "len, more 

had the coach tnrnSX th^thTL?'~'"i -^"^ «» q^oWy 
street and on the MooB^'of tl,5- * ^'*.°^ spectators in thi 

t the l«t n.omentT£ tt^ and?h' ^ P*'^ ^' "^ <»"7 
"angJum and the two passengers at the 



44 



CHIPPINGE 



back, men naed to the road, canght the wmung, and dropped 

/^r"\..^'ii " "*■ "^'y ■* '•'« TwyJ"" moment that Vanghm 
felt rather than WW that the girl «ai .till rtandine. nThad 
jiMt time, by a desperate effort, and amid a err of horror— for 
to the Bpectators el -• seemed to be already jammed between the 
arch and the aeat— to drag her down. Instinctively be shielded 
her face with hi« am ; bnt the horror waa so near that, ai 
they iwept under the low brow, he wag not mie that she 
wa« safe. 

He was as white as she was, when they emerged into the 
light again. Bnt he saw that she was safe, though her bonnet 
.T5Su"'KR*^ /",S ^"^^ I Md be cried unconsdonsly. 
"Thank God I Thank God I" Then, with that hatod of a 
scene which is part of the English character, he put her 
qmckly teck into her seat, and rose to his feet, as if he wished 
to separate himself from her. 

Bnt a score of eyes had seen the act ; and however much 

« '^u ■^'?V, *^ •P«e,ke>' feelings, conceabnent wos impossible. 

Christ I cned the coachman, whose copper cheeks were 

perceptibly paler. " If your head's on yonr stSnlders, Miss, it 

IS to that young gentleman you owe it Don't yon ever go to 

sleep on the roof of a coach again I Never 1 Never i " 

" Here, get a drop of brandy I » cried the landlady, who 
from one of the doors flanking the archway, had seen all 
Do Tou stay where you are, Mas," she continued, "and I'll 
send It np to yon." 

On which, amid a babel of exclamations and a chorus of 
blMie and praise, the ladder was brought, and Vaughan made 
haste to descend. A waiter tripped out with the brown brandy 
and water on a tray j and the young U.dy,who had not spoken, 
but had remain^, sitting white and still, where Vangh^had 
placed her, sipped it obediently. Unfortunately the Kndhdv's 
eyes were Aarp j and as Vanehan passed her to go into tlie 
honse-for the «>&ch must he driven np the yard uid turned 
before they could set off again— she let fall a cry. 

"Lord, Mr I" she said, "yonr hand is torn dreadful I 
You've grazed every bit of skin off it 1 " 

fiu ^^^.^ 'u?""* ^^ ' ""* '"""8' '»°'ried into the house. 
She fuised after him to attend to him ; and Sammy who was 
not a man of the most dehcato perceptions, seized the oppor- 
tunity to dnve home his former lesson. 

" There, Mia?," he said solemnly, « I hope that'll teach you 



ROSY-FINGERED DAWN 

^"S'-'^'^s^ '^ «». «« ^' 

Not 10 the KinclSnaii .. r •"?••' .<wf«Iin' nn I " 
that Z^-^"'^^'''^ -"""^J witS^a gISnt, "if yon «.n 

.n.;^"'rh'L d:;r„t' JsJe '-it •' "/'•'' ^--'"»- 

''^?tt^Tt£°""T^^"-''^" ""'"'' ""' 

caused the tronble ? iJ-ZTme ifT« iS.ii """ {°°' ">»' 
m^ooa^h. rdlike to doua4''SiSrte f^^ f^JJ^" - 

ton^e;1?£ th"v£ E^f K^' ^-^ '«"/o hi, 

ment, declined to gTon ''''*" ''« '"'^ "^e n^age- 

mn^. ^?TWaf ^ri"ir-<l Tory , » the coachman 
loinates he's co^t us 1^ "^.r^* ^o' 'bem I FiS 
yonrseaUI I'm off! "' Take your seats, gents, take 

oot.''*'E[^'^LtS « qSyttlT,*!-'"'* 'o -- 
without looking^ ^SL^ K® "*!5''' "^ •'" PJ««e. »nd, 
She did not «?y. anSley ^eDt^i'::'?r'^T'7'°'^• 
moment the right of the thmn^.L'^ nnder the arch. For a 
Then he lookef rt her Md K» tw'^S'"'*^ *^«^ ^■ 
If he was Tot onite^ wil ".'i^T^'" ^ trembling. 

ceptions. -^And he ctS tW *^ •°rv"*''*^«««' keen Per- 
constraint and her wSly ^Mtin! !!f'' "^'^T '"" "'•Hen 
could not be othenrisTT^ »k iT P""'?"^ Pl'^ed. It 
chUdhood, withinThTwaUs^^ f ° Wl Tri'"'?: ^"^^ "^'^ 
genteel apprentice and *h.n - -1 *' Clapham, first as 



^ CHIPPINGE 

to rtraggle it once with the Ajnm of Tenth, the modeetr of 
herjM ^ her .nexMrience-above afl, peAap., with to 
dread of jnlt which tecome. the instinct of loWj bwHitr-- 

which overwhe mefher a. often as ghe thought of thThSeona 
death from which he had snatched her ? uiacona 

f,„» .if""''* "•*' ' ^ '''"' "''»"' Stood taete the refrained 

whfch » r.r''°P"* '"'^,: ?'"' ^ "clcnowledgmenli 2 
which a shallow natnre might Lave talcen tefnge. For him 
^guessed some part of th&, and discerned that if he woS 

h^^f^^h •''.""f ff^ ^r^'^- Accordingly, when S 
^„ Jl V "^"^l^hmd them and were swinging mmifr 
along the Nowbnir Eoad, he leant towards her. ^ 

»!,• 1. .'i. x?*^',' *'e»»'d in a low voice, "that yon won't 
^^n-.l!'''? »^i»PP*°'«i ? The coachman would Ce done 
J«mnc^ «.d ,colde«f you 1 I happened to be next yon S 

feni^l' '"^.^'lj°'if ',',' ?2,* yonr hand." she faltered. " I 
V^:"^" , ™® shnddered. unable to go on. 

daysit'wmrwX""'"^"""'*'- "^•"''•"«' I°''"^ 
She turned her eyes on him. eyjs which Dossessol 

eloquence of which their owner wa^ unconS. ^ ' 

ThV^f^^ l°l ^°"'" "i" °">™«e<l. « I can do no mo.^." 

conldtrtfet off": ""^ '^'"•^•' '"" '"* "^ ^»"8l-» 

thanq^^Tn'A^^i '^'^^i " Y" *»" *''<'" »» "ore 
to ^i^ he^f ^ W^ '^^'^ •"? * 'e* ""omonto in which 
10 recover nenelf, "We are nearly at Speenhamiand " h« 
resumed cheerfully "There i. .he Georgrand Pdicin a 
great hutrng-house for coaches. I am af ra^ to say howTuch 
aZ^^u-^\*^'^^' ontinaday. They haveVZiTho 
does nothing but weig^ .t out." And so he chattered radoin^ 
his utmost to talk of fndiirerent matteiB in .TtoS^nt to^^ 

«^*W r',^' *r'l ''ord, she gave him leaWT talt Pre^ 

^«^and fe^ T^^!^^'T l**' "■"^ ^''ose under thek 
eyes, and when he thought that Be had put her at her eas»-, 

«.dde^^ '"'^"^*^^ ^"°'''^" ^ "••>' looking Ther 



ROSY-FINGKRED DAWN 



47 



070s were ehewhere. hT^^J'I^' *''*'' •' l"™ "ten hi. 

to fear. And he wm » th^'w w"t "''* '"'^ •»<"> taught 
JO tender . note iZh^ to^^'^SLl'Si;' ^e conid thC 
bnt she had never hearf o7 him h. l!''^??*^ " ^Ivaalo/- 
buk tolerabljj but to hor h« . *J°«''""^I»«wIma'ur 
She had a woW. eye for theX'Sl.' IZ ""^tl.™*,, 
smutnees of his waistLfc!i.5 . ^ ",' '^'' "ne". and the 
his oheet.of P.Ierr.^J:;She°lu, n"S^ Or.jL«„%5?h 
Janw waistcoat. ? Norwi. she hl^J °/ ??'•««* "PPw^*! on 
5'«?'.t"<» !>" «ir of Cmnd *° "" '"^ «""«• "f 

^ precipice was approached .tirAf ''"'"?'"« ""ch as these that the 
^fot f m«,l.esXTed fi^m C llT '^e poor and prett^ 
«he traveUing ? !„ whar-.. *i,"*'" '°^- Whither wJ 
And if theyTd no? aUiJ^t JSom«nt *" '""^ ' S""" *«"^Wei 
Forest -and sighted the ™d^°^?''7°&°?' °^ Savemalta 
warm and snug ^iheW „»"S.^* °' Sarlborongh, iXg 
did not know wlafshe df^fd ba« don^^P >'"J?° ^i". "hf 
repulse him. "'" ''*^* "one, since she oonld not 

«Wf^i-«^-^Ie throngh the town, the leader, 
ehining; p„t a1^«TlnTsi™ & '!J'i"?«v'''« •«» 
stages were baiting j Mst thaT^ ^'"*..'^*^ ">« ''«»^y 
brisk pleasantness of tCnew thk Iw!"''*V'^'« «" ""e 
her to go its way. Ta-r^^T', %1^K "■««. appealed to 
«gbta.e7 polled up braveW^with ,^"' Swerving to the 
door of tile far-famVl S'C ''^™'« hones, before the 

njtherd^iiniS^toT&f'at'^hf ^>^^. "^ ^"^ "«"> or 
the delightful present^. °; mfc ^' ^^^^^ glances and 

She did not r«ply, anW«w ?L?^k'"'"' ^"" ""^ ' " 
basket at her feet. He gue«Ll Th.^^K ''^^ ^^? "«"' ^o «>« 
expense of diidn^ ^^^ "*^ *« "wbed to avoid the 



4S 



CHIPPINGE 



" Or Mrlwpi 7on on not ooming in ? " bo Mid. 
'I I dM not intend to do io," ihe leplied. " I luppote." ihs 
oontinned timidly, ■• that I may itar here ? " 
'* CerUinljr. Too btTe lonMtblng with yon t " 

He nodded pleaaantly and left her i a i ihe remained in 

I' .""'• ^ ** '*"• "" ''"8"!' *** """J • *^J glMce of 
admiiation, ihe wai divided betrmn eiatitode and lelf-Nproaoh t 
now thinking of him with u aui'-kened heart, now ti^g her- 
•elf to talk for her weakneM. The remit wai that when he 
•trode ont, confident and at eaie, and looked np at her with 
wnS^^nS 87«i *he blubed foriooily— to her own onipeakable 
mortification. 

VangV n wu no Lothario, and for a moment the tell-tale 
oolonr took him aback. Then he told himaelf that at Chippen- 
ham., lea than twenty milei down the road, he most leave her. 
Ti a» abinrd to roppoie that. In the ehort apace which re- 
's Uned, either could be harmed. So he mounted gaily, and 
masking hit knowledge of her emotion with a ikill which i 
BUrpriaed hunielf, he chatted pleaaantly, unaware that with 
every word he waa stamping the impreaaion of her face, her 
long eyehMhes, her gnceful head, her trick of thia and that, 
more deeplv upon hia memory. While ahe, reaasu^ by 
the aame thonght that thev would part in an hour— and in 
on honr what harm could happen ?— closed her eyea and 
drank the sweet draught, the sweeter for ita novelty, and for 
the bitter which lurked.at the bottom of the cnp. Meantime 
bammy winked sagely at his hones, and the Frenchman caat 
enviona glances over his shoulder, and Klbniy Hill, Fyfleld, 
and the soft^lds of the doifns swept by, and on warm 
commons the early bees hummed above the gorse. 

Here was Chippenham at last i and liie end was come. He 
must descend. A hasty touch, a mnrmured word, a pang half- 
felt J ahe veiled her eyes. If her colour fluttered, and ahe 
'"™™~> ""y not ? She hai cause to be grateful to him. 
And if he felt, as his foot touched the ground, that the world 
7" <»M> »°d the prospect cheerless, why not, when he had to' 
face Sir Eobert, and when his political embarrassments, for- 
gotten for a time, rose nearer and larger 7 

It had often fallen to him to alight at the Angel at 
Chippenham. Prom boyhood he had known the wide street, 
m which the fairs were held, the solid Qeptgian honses, an4 • 




ROSV-FINGERED DAWN 



^;eJrn*tlrK"„°-^^^^^ Bat LoM 
•rtWiotion than on thli dHjr *°"^ **»•"• "'"> '«• 

^%.t rhiteWLTd ^^^^ ^^'^A 

■0 . Whit,'.' hia \^ fa Tu b.nd ^C"* *" •*" '9»-" 
" But jon didn't expect me ? '• 

-n7l.ft^^,J^p^i^:;^e.a«e^^ «-we«d with , 
U no^io^e?^?'^'" ^ ''»»'" -<" Mr- Cooke. Anyway. 

np^i^h/'lo^^'tt'^L'^^lr^W'-Wa, by the 
tronb it over. Mt lord lT,!2i ? *'*" '^ "^ "lat the 
of oontSing ihe Cneh anlT' '^/'^^S "5 *•"« idea 
, thinking th4 he mS n«/.rf ^ ™"' '° *«" "r. Cooke, 
» hon«,*at MrtoL'^ '^ ^^'"^ to go on to Bristol. He hiui 

oonu,°?.?°" "-^^.-Vanghw add. nh.t there wiU be no 

we.ring'l^ who X° .tnSP*"' *°'^ '"'* ^y™ »° « tell lady 
farther* K/rte rt^f "tff-^ " """P « »' >^"'"«i on thj 
enter it she d b^^l. 11 iSlTTL,"'' "^^- To 
«;bo8t. •• By Goeh I^.^„,Sl^ ^% "*^' «» '' •>« "aw a 

" By Ooeh 1 " hn mi,t».!Ji '■ ™ ."^ **ken her seat inside. 

thoSgh^Je'not'LThSryk^l^T "^ ^l'" 

'^,?a(L- Ai^^otra^-^^^^^^^^ - h. in| 



50 



CHIPPINGE 



coacL In the bnstlo he had noted neither White's emotion 
nor the lady. 

At this moment he retmued. "I shall go on to Bristol 
for the mght, White," he said. " Sir Robert is quite well ? " 

"Quite well, sir, and I shall be happy to tell him of year 
promptness in coming." 

"Don't ten him anything," the yonng man said, with a 
flash of peremptonness. " 1 don't want to be kept here. Doi 
you understand, White ? I shall probably return to town 
to-morrow. Anyway, say nothing." 

"Very good, sir," White answered. "But I am sure Sir 
Kobert would be pleased to know that you had come down 
so promptly." 

"Ah, well, you can let him know later. Good-bye, White." 

The agent with one eye on the young squire and one on 
the lady whose figure was visible through the small coach- 
window, seemed to be about to refer to her. But he checked 
himself. 

"Good-bye, sir," ho said. "And a pleasant journey I I'm 
glad to have been of service, Mr. Vanghan." 

"Thank you. White, thank you," the young man answered. 
And he swung himself up, as the coach moved. A good- 
natured nod, and Tantivy 1 Tantivy I Tantivy! Thehelpera 
sprang aside, and away they went down the hill, and over the 
long stone bridge, and so along the Bristol road j but now 
with the shades of evening beginning to spread on the pastures 
about them, and the cawing rooks, that had been abroad all 
day on the uplands, streaming across the pale sky to the elms 
beside the river. 

But varium et mutabilt femina. When he turned, eager to 
take up the fallen thread, Clotho could not have been more 
cold than his neighbour, nor Atropos with her shears more 
decisive. 

" I've had good news," he said as he settled his coat about 
him. " I came down with a very unpleasant task before me. 
And it IS lifted from me." 

"Indeed I" 

'• So I am going on to Bristol instead of staying at 
Chippenham." 
ifo answer. 

" It is a great relief to me," he continued cheerfully. , i 

" Indeed 1" She spoke in the most distant of voiceB. , .' 



ROSy-FINGERED DAWN 



tear had K visible i°w ^ \""*«d « C ch^t [Z 

andts'iS^^d';^ ^^"11 ^' ^^0 -"H bluah and ,^e 
e«tefnl. let him S wb^'u" ^'*^°^-G°<J W she"^' 

"ore giddy of herXkiS J"* «* plaDham to haunUh; 

-'irate r^^rn'^^^^^^^^ 

that he ms not a roa^ingX^t .tL*^" "" -mbterfugT: 
and her own coarse was f C' "PI**™"** were deceitful 

^l'?*?K«M^1M^^ to the respect 

hun. It was plain ThtbB ^J^^"^ "^■'« ^o ^Cto 
tho« whom jronng peJ^J^^^ hTr^nk o? ^T'^"^ ' ^"^ «? 
A t ,^,''« ^e'' BoanSv fire wori^ ^^^ f, ^^^. °""' "hnn. 
At last, thrice rebnffea « I Tm .* ?5 "' ''«'' "> « many ^es 
Was it for this that he k/.W *^'?'^ J'"" ^ 'i«d,"le »M 
. " yes," she aS^;e,^^.?fc^,f o? to Bristo'l ?"". '""^• 
I woald prefer not to talk." "'^'' '"^- « Jon please 

gae«,.''th'«gh hf ^as^^^tf ^"' ""d kt her be, nor did h„ 

hatcher sfemhr.rg«^Lrfe"Brtr ■"""' Cho^ i 
•t : better seem thankless Tnt nT v " "«■ "onght else for 
«be was growing Chtoygh^.iT'?'*'. heiSfter X 
t^l^ r P^'^^' of 'he r^ by S "^f^"^"? .to have mow 

ri1^' ?rf:4^rSr?«^^^^^^^ 
HnaTh»e£S"-^^^^ 

glee and goodJeflowshipTsKMZ'vrK^ ^ her, f J'^ 

Ihey stayed at Mjuihfiel.? f^Tf u ""^e bprst into tears. 
•he tned to divert h^S t w^h°S^^ ^' '*^- ^°<> 
"7 watching a woman in a veil 



I^TT. 



S' 



CHIPPINGE 



who walked up and down beside the coach, and ieemed to 
return her curiosity. But she tried to little pnrpote, for she 
felt strained and weary, and more than ever inclined to 
cry. Doubtless the peril through which she had passed had 

shAenher. , . , j. -i ' 

So that she was thankful when, after descending penlons 
Tog Hill, they saw from Kingswood heights the lighta of 
Bristol shining through the dusk ; and she knew that she 
was at her journey's end. To arrive in a strange place ou 
the edge of night is trying to any one. But to alight friend- 
less and alone, amid the bnsUe of a city, and to know that 
new relations must be created and a new life built up— this 
may well raise in the most humble and contented bosom 
a feeling of loneliness and depression. And doubtless that 
was why Mary Smith, after evading Vanghan with a suoctsi 
beyond her hopes, felt as she followed her modest trunk 
through the streets that— but she bent her head to hide the 
unaccustomed tears. 



CHAPTER VI 

THR PATBOlf OP CHJPPIXOE 

branch of «mSft ^^ lllf';?"^^' "^ "^ ^X™ 
a fortune in the JamSrade ^«^ "" ^!^ »« niaking 
office in Bmtol, and S Uke all nl "f "^"Z' '" " ^ark 
tun. he proceeded to fomd a fL?iv ^'u' °^ * ^^^^'"'"y 
and, by steady support of WM„\-^^', P°«=ba8e a borough. 
8u«e,«on, to'ea^f tar^ell,I^"''^iPl«'^''d 'be Protest^ 
of Wilts. oaronetcy m the neighbonring county 

and^atS tl'^i^SL'Zttf'r^^ -"'^"^ -«•. 
De Coverlevs and theirTnne^nH^ ^"^ °^'-" ^'""^ "»« 
b» way stolidly, marri^ C sonT^ !^f '^'*-, ^'" ''^ "=»' 
the Beckfords-and, hJllTuJ^a^"^ «ke origin- 

Which hisSSS Shtfrom'if /'"Pi"^''' "■« ho<»« 
name, and after IWmr fo? »nm. » "*' '^'"'y*^ ^^^y "f that 
Farmer George. Sed fa, hTfn^"/"*." ^'" 'be reign^ 
to succeed hL^ Sdtas G^r,^p"fi; '^^Jl^^ ^''"'«''"'' Robert 
in lus fatherTwetime ^'' '*" *''^«'' *>". baring died 

ti^<>f^^rA^^!^-- ^o'-etting after the pattern of 



54 



CHIPPINGE 



h'mfcod tlie country so conscientiotisly that at hig death a 
Dntch bottle might have been Bot upon his table without 
giving rise to the slightest reflection. He came to an end, 
much lamented, with the century, and Sir Robert, fourth and 
present baronet, took over the estates. 

By that time, rid of the foreign prenomen, well allied by 
three good marriages, and since the American War of true 
blue Toiy leanings and thorough Church and King principles, 
the family was able to hold np its head among the best in the 
South of England. There might be some who still remembered 
that— 

"SoltRBh WM a torongh town 
■When FIjmoutli wa« a breezy down." 

But the property was good, the borough safe, and any time 
these twenty years then: owner might have franked his letters 
"Chippinge" had he willed it. As it was, he passed, ahnost 
as mncli as Mr. 'Westem in the east or Sir Thomas Acland in 
the west, for the type of a country gentleman. The most 
powerful Minister gave him his whole hand ; and at county 
meetings, at Salislmry or Devizes, no voice was held more 
powerful, nor any man's hint more quickly taken, than Sir 
Robert Vermnyden's. 

He was a tall and very thin man, of almost noble aspect, 
with a nose after the fashion of the Duke's, and a alight stoop. 
In early days he had been something of a beau, though never 
of the Prince's following, and he still dressed finely and with 
taste. With a smaller sense of personal dignity, or with wider 
sympathies, he might have been a happier man. But he had 
married too late— at forty-five ; and the four years which had 
followed, and their sequel, had darkened the rest of his life, 
drawn crow's-feet abont his eyes and peevish lines about his 
month. Henceforth he had lived alone, nursing his pride ; 
and the solitude of this life— which was not without its dignity, 
since no word of scandal touched it— had left him narrow and 
vindictive, a man just bnt not over-generous, and pompons 
without compUicen(^. _ , ., . , , 

The neighbourhood knew that he and Lady Sybil— he had 
married the beautiful daughter of the last Earl of Portnish— 
had parted under circumstances which came near to justifying 
divorce. Some held that he had divorced her ; but in those 
days an Act of Parliament was necessary, and no such Act 



THE PATRON OF CHIPPINGe"- ^-^f-^- 

Isaac White were aware tEt w« J!"* nnmeroaii, few lave 
been made and mamd TboJ^^'^T ^ """"^ bad 
prmoipl^that Sir SXrt opS^l?"* "°' P-"^/ out of 
downe, and would have WMteS^.if.l*'^. "'""«' °^ I^ns- 

ParCet'K"ffi'"„^^^^^^ ^ "'" ''""'^- °-"? "^e 
from time to ttae Xr a diilfi'S" f^^ ''"'^ '>''d "Men 
(features and a caoioM ^rinW- ^'?^, ^'"^""'' 'f '"i formal 
Libe^l Toryism oTo.nS"£§?i,«''«t?l allusiona. ° The 

he had contiWd togitnntifthrJ^ ". ¥?r '"^ '<^«al. but 
and the Duke— on tL P.t{r S?^ beteayal of the party by Peel 
House in dis^ and ttSl^'r~'''?'*tx'^^™^ 'bi 
dence when in town, Vw h^ w IT""" §°^^' ^^ '«i- 
then that nothing worse rmiM t °'?- ^* ^'^ ^^cied 

plumbed, and thaf he Kl wSHh' "t'. '^\'^«P"« ^e« 
pnnish the traitor and takeTn k ''""'?^^ ^"^ bun might 
Cumberhffld,thetesth J"°.'«™-, 7"b the Dnkeof 
tired of ridicnlinrh;aT^„T^,'?^''Kl«nd-which was never 
and the ultra-Sea he ^^'^^™~^''* ^'don. Wetherel 
hated pair fl4 K®* C T^ """' ^« ^ "^"'bl 
and confonndel when thTr^T T.h ^^ man more surprised 
Jtself. The Whies. admSt^S i. °* "**, """'« began to show 
S^t^and after- iTso^ "ng-^t Wu^ ^^ulrwrK 

poSgSlt°le"anfl?vin«'^noS*" ?'"^'T' "* '"^o™. 
nad alike emected . hnf « ^ nothing, such as foe and friend 

blessed it_X^ote',^^rhZ%t"S ^' «'<^°^°» 
which, J it passed, would weenaln^s-^S^v" ; * ™««°« 
the power of^Tolw^ deatmv ?;. T^ Sir Eoberfg power and 
to the common ord'Hf co^iy^^'^'*''' '^^ «1^ him 

the knell of the ConatitntL fct k" '""' ''^''«°«' but 
-d the crash of things, io^^^'^t:^''^^^ 



s« 



CHIPPINGE 



t^™ »ni"'nf*f!! .^f'^y""e Broneham was Uanton; and of 
v^JT "' "''"■ 'l""'- "•'«'' "'oy bad roused the mn^ 

He was not the leas fnriong, not the less aehast when th« 
inoderata, of hU party pomt<5 oat that heTd hS to 
thank for the <»tastrop£e. From the refnaalto J^ the 
jmaUes reform, from tte refusal to tranrferlhe frSShL of 
the rotten borough of Betfoid to the uniepresen^ city of 
BirmiDgham-a refusal which he had mSe^to m^bl™ ^ 
support-the chrin was complete ; for iS^^ueS^h^ 
refusal Mr Hnskkson had left the DukeTOS The 
appomtment of Mr. Fitzgerald to fiU Hnski^n's Lf 1>»^ 
render^ the Clare electiol necessary ^cSs vte^rr at 
the Clare election had converted Peel and Z Dnk^ to^thl 
necessity of granting the Catholic Claim iLt wnversion 
had alienated the ultra-Tories, and am^ theTsrSrt 
The opposition of the ultra-Tories had expelled P^l andlhe 
?rSfeE7;^ta^''"'°«^' ^ tfe Whigs-who ha'l 

f^nfS'Kelrn fcg^ '^J^^ c^^^fot 

L™ l*° ""? r"t ^^"^ '«*"'«J al»n^^lbte now- 
here were 8«ty boroughs to he swept away.^ n^lvTftv 
more to be shorn of half their stren^h,r&oStuttoiV^ 
altered, an aristocracy to be dethroned I """"oa lo oe 

And Calne, Lord Lansdowne's pocket boroneh was b™™! t 
Sir Bobert firmly believed thTthe uTt QTeTted 

^Si °«'«^W« confabnkioD, had fixed the S of 
^hedide B so as to spare Calne and Tavistock-WefZi/ 
Whig boroughs both. Or why did they JMTes^ In the 
For thf?"*' J'k^" this w4h troufel^ him most sorely 
^oL \!°" t ^"1 °'° .borough-if the worst came to t£e 
L n!r^ °°°'^ P?' "P.^'"" ''■ He had no children, he Iwd 
no one to come after him except Arthur Vaughan the kCT 
grandson of his grandmother. But the mo»™ ofCalnf^i," 
dear proof of the%ypocrisy of the righLTC thfui^ 

-teitf:?r^fr-^^-°'^ •^°''"' '^« de^5^e Brought 
-this injustice kept him m a state of continml fetation 

He W{B thiiJcfng of this as he paced up wd d^^ the 
broad walk beside tie Garden Pool^atStepyCl-a ^Ut^ 



THE PATkON OF CHIPPINGE j^ 

■et amito the CS^tt s fcfe.^'^K'''^ ''"7 "'"'"'h 
notw of song-birds or a ve r> f^mti. j- ?' '"^''«° ""'y bj the 
over the Jeenu,auU^^T^X^TA^^''''''''^''^'^i'^^ 
appealed to him to-day, thSLhoS^L^** °°''*.'''. «" vainly 
took sad and froqa^V '^/^"■"'"er evenings his heart 

threatened him eyV4iS^AM^kJ°l-"r 'l^ ''''<='■ 
one day. The homTof KS^rZthtt k"^ ""^ '"PP«'' 
but shorn of its chipf rii^lTi* . •. *f"' °^ •"» ^or some years 

C.tae--CalnVwonHliVwt^stft' '!" T^^'^ ' ^^"« 
those who had sold tS kfni^n^ stiU higher the fortunes of 
order. "^"^ ""S «"d country, and betrayed their 

a footman hurrying tov^rfs hi^ f,^!? j,.""^ by-and-by scSig 
that the m^a^^^^^'B^^ZlCit^T'^'^f^^ 
long wooden bridge which SMnnPdn,' "ft*"- crossing the 
remembered that it wm too S?7 fo/^ ^\' WO'ohed, he 
be disturbed in his solka^re^^ha »^'ffi ""'' •>»'«» ^ 
impatience. ^^ revene, he awaited the servant with 

"What is it? "he asked. 

at the te-^'*^' ^" ^^'*' ^J I*n«iowne's carriage is 

-nWe"h^^'^tS|st°::i,'ti'*^«^ ^-^ -""o-h- 
Z^ formal civilities tJ^^L-eltt'^rs'Syri'nl 

"Who is it?" 
that"aK^«Bo^^. ^Herhuiyshiph^Jemesay 
unns^aS. °"''' "^ "''" « ""^ ""^^e^ ^ew that the visit was 

the '^tt^^Z'^^^Z^ir^''^" ^'^t" ^-^ 'hat 
-t m^the state in whicT A'^o^d' "^T^^^^^.TZ 

"l?t^SrHtt.'^^"P'"''e'-ted. 
" Verygood. I will come." 

follower™ rfirVhlS t\''J^''S«' --J ^ir Robert 
<;• "Uen 113 had paaacd the angle of 



f 



*• CHIPPINGE 

hilw^ll''^ "I"* ""^^ '" » 'we with tho threo blocb of 

"^rhS'LW^wt'l.r.'^ eminent looked h^dwrn^' 

tSJLh W ii"** "^"^^ h» face shaded by the Uroe 

for him opened the/oor, and he entered the bS ^ ' 

bottoned gaiten and breecheg of his country We Bnt hi 

ings which her husband had add^med to W .^ JL""" 

to ::^?^X'2t.%s^^i:::^r^^ ^^^^ «- 1 «^e 
had.. ri^s fea:?^dor^w •• -^ ''•^ *« 

mit:;dMfS';tea*gX'^di^^'s -^^^ p- 



THE PATRON OF CHIPPINGE 



59 



interoonne had S«n^iKrTn> ^^^°t^'i^''""" """I 
wordg, a formal invitation m fnrmX 5^i' ^j* ^^^ *""""' 
Mlutation at race or h«n ^./°™»%, declined, a meaanred 
rtrongone. N^ it no«ihI^f* "'"^ ¥^\» """"^e, and s 
he lul learaed th^f iSSd tZ^'' ""* °°>y ">« ^V befow that 

oppo.itiolJTcKit^^rZ.fhfl'? ^P ^ ''^'"»' 
make a faronr orth^T^JSST'"* ^ ^^ ""^ ''e™ ^ 
were her errand Ld^y lJ^hJ^^f^.'■ ^^^ ' " "">* 

to answer? H^^W *" "^ ^ """^ kno» kow 



CHAPl'EK VII 

THE WI.\DS OP AVTVUS 

" WM C" Sfr'Zl.L^ '^"^^K -^^ «^d with . ..Vh 
bowed. " it Zdi rtm •• **" ""'"'«'• " W'"* otheii^ be 

that 1/ ihe wonld do mtST .h! ""e fray, and ibe mw 



"The 

"• " ""-"ve yon done wr""" """"""" """■ 
not a»k, and I am taking i " 

veo^'l^f tW?forwrch'he%S''i"'l J'-l' ^'^ ""^ '"^ 'he 
her that he i^ notl^ hT had looked ; bnt he wonldehow 

repeated. « IMjU^^J'J'Ti^^'"': " ^ »"! tell yon," hi 

"IdonotwLTZ ".lf'^''"'^*''™y«^''-" 
with aa Toa wSSd." ^Bat tt St?" " ^' -V°°" 'o -J- 
continn4 staying him fatrepid"S~C f '' ^obfrt." »te 
now, and must iwim-«yo7Salf^r/..T? '^*" '''« "at*' 
■heisyonrwife. Bnt notTOMTnofv!^^'""" ""« ' ^^^, 
» yon will, in the l>nm ^^ I^^^ f^^^ ^ i" miL 

60 



THE WINDS OF AUTUMN 



«i 



" I am not." 

"Sheknowi?" 

.'.'ff°;;^Sir Robert, she iom not." 

nation i^hta itono-i"whri^T^^ '"'°«'**' "'"' 'ho Jndig- 
come ? " ""y- "" ^"^ • name, madam, have "ou 

r .haU never laj T aKj^^XJ ^^ ."<>' «y • »ord *w 
more than time;- OMamKi-therB u itill time, but no 

He looked at her flxedlr " v„„ i. 
he wid. " What is it ? •• '" "" ""''« •nothor rcaaon," 

Bri.toWh^Lirf,1S^"«,l]^,'° Ohipnenham when tho 
He breath^ow oaicSr. itl** "■?• window." 

touched him home. BntWonM n^ m*"5*"' '•»' *e newg 
" Well ? " he «id °" "** '''«°<* nor lower hii eye. 

And7f "'n^rjli^rS 2»t' ""^p"«> ''"' »«* - -ne. 
though ihe was changed " ^^ ^ ^*'- ^'" ^ knew her faoi 

'^^^S''^^-'5--'st-;> - ^ "" 

be«.i%e't'7rowtt'^"ltt°«««- And 
gail^." '^ """8 0M«. And beoante the was-not 

venSn^'*^- ^ "^ «*"'■>« "i'hin hia gnarf with a 

His face was Lplv S^' Fn, . "*" °'" ?"%•" 
" if ho would not K'her or rK ^"JSpked at her 
her leave his housf. Then— »DBwered, would bid 

»nsl inthiSh*yK,*'«,f wo^'^^',;'«f";"7' ""^"n. in tho 
Phased to be mV wit theLXn^ll'^r TT' "''« ^ 

wa."she wi^„|[^'o;' e^^^^ji^ [-^ ^aa dark. "But as it 

mp«U7 as his^sion grew-" she m.^^ll '"' "I*'^* '"ore 

and dragged mW in thVdirt. Shp mt^^ ''"" "r^" ''y^ord 

"<■ uirt ane made me a laughing-stock 



tfa 



CHIPPINGE 



•nd henclf % aoandid. She duobcTed me— bnt what wm her 
whole hfo wiUi me, Lad/ Lanidowne, bnl one long di^ 
obedience ? When the pabluhed that light, that /ooliih book, 

"? ^t^"!^ '* '"-.'*> ''"* P«»on-a Book which no modeat 
wife Bhonld have wntten, wa* not her main motire to haraM 
and degrade me ? Me, her hniband ? While we were together 
waa not her oondnct from the flrrt one long deflonce, one lonir 
ha»«nent of me? Did a day pan in which she did not 
bnmUiate me bv a hundred tricki, beUttle me br a hundred 
aughta, ape me before thoae whom >he ihonld not have itooped 
to know, invite in a thonaand wayi the applanae of the foni 
jhe drew round h«-? And when "-he ^Je/and paced l£e 
r^?~ . ™°' '"*^ ^joad patience by what I heard, I lent 
to her at Ilorence and bade her return to me, and ceaae to 
make her«elf a icandal with that penon, or my honae ahoald 
no longer be her home, the disobeyed me flagrantly, wilfully, 
and at a price ihe knew I She went out of Wet way to follow 
him to Home, .he flaunted henelf in hia company, ay, and 
flaunted herMlf in inch gniae aa no EngliahwomM had been 
known to wear before I And after that— after that— " 

.»,.i:L''°^Vu?"'^ •• K*™!? "watered by hia feelings; 
•he had got withm^hia guard indeed. For a while he ooild 
not go on. And Lady Lansdowne, picturiiiR the old dava 

InSL^ ^f^"^. '"'^' '*»'«•" ^^' <1»7» "hen her 
cbildren had been infants, sow, as it had been yesterdav. the 
ronpg bride, beautiful as a rosebud and wild and skittish i an 
Irish colt-and the husband staid, dignified, middle^ed, 
as Me in svmpathy with his captive's laudom acts and flSity 
*ordSM " he had spoken another tongue. 

Thus yoked, antf resisting the lightest rein, the young wife 
wi. 7°jT*J' "*?•"* '^ ""^ '"Snity of folly. Eggld on 
by ^e plandita of a cirele of admirers, iJie had now A her 
husband ndiculona by childish familiarities : and again, when 
»vi^"1,i™'"'-.ri' ^^ \ ""' <" P°Wi<= offeSceT'which 

hJ^tJ '"'^,!^^"'^.^S ^"""'"S. and leading a wretched life, 
he had yet borne with her, until Bomethlng which she chose U> 
call a passion took possession of her. "The Giaour" and 

w,Twwf^ IT "'*^' *^ 7^ • »°<^ '''''' the publicity 
with which ^e did everrthmg she flung herself at the head of 

i1f„^^ ."^"'^Jt? '*'°i"" person, lalf poet, half dandy, 
who was staying at Bowood. ^' 



THE WINDS OF AUTUMN 63 

Md the parents ne7or met again " m- . la, 

"I have thonght of it a thourand tunes I "he retorted 
'Do yon .apppw » turning on her with har^eu. "tSt thml 
M a d» on which I do not think of it ? »™™'"^ "»»' "»«» 
"Boyonngl" 

." §?" ^\^'i *¥?* J^"" » "no*er I » 
"if nMe^T^ '*'"*' '^'' ^•"'•" *« P'"*^"^ "'* «^. 

" Hy Lamdowne I " There were both anger and tain in 
hi* voice as he halted and stood before hor ''^v?^.^ 
come to ae? Why do you tionble ^e 7^y ? 1^^'^ 

I^MFu^J^^-^'^P^"^^^^' »«»■« yon know. bS™ 
yon feel that hot for you my home had not be™ left if ^ 
desolate ? Nor a foo4 life'been rnta^ ?» ^" '*" *^ ™ 
Uod forbid I " she said solemnly. And in hp» #nm .»,« 
rose in agitation moved for once out'V the g^io^ ^ !nd 

S^I fJfh,^"*i/'*' '^'^ "''8'" ^^0 done more. 
Because I feel that a word from me might have checked herj 



1^ - m:? 



caaan 



** CHIPPINGE 

m^^ Z,™ ^ ''*'""'t J™'' ^ ™ yo^-'K. and it might have 
^ at th? ^°T~^ ^1 ff^ ''■'°"- B«' "hen I mw her 
B^^I Lt ii;''.7 y.<=f "l^ay-and she w«. changed, SiJ 

aL.g^-j':,a'rr„rai„n: "sfaUnifT^ 

Z J5^T ""^ ^" '• '^^ "^''' J""^* been as I am I ^ " 

for her I In our world we grow hard, very hard ; bnt therein 
thjnip which touch us stiU. and her fa^ touched me ySt^ 

h^ h.rS f' f ■ '°°^ ?^^' *« continued eoftly, " it cannot 
^b^J^ .^T" '• ''°5 ^''^ ■■" "*"' "■"«• She did nSg 
n»L !^/'^® ^T •'<~'"' """J "hat she did is fonrotten 

£|xs,.:S-7-tir"t? X:fter.^Sd^' 
mom^|t&X^^;oiSr'iTr^r' "■" '- *■>« 

for*),, aov i'^ ""! "T°''8 "hord," he said hoarsely. "It ig 
W I Sh^i,"^ my dead child that I shaU ,r, ne/er fonrive 

I' Awt'^^."I^d^l^Jt^itt1n7a|^ 

h^C^lVj? ' } ^'^ 'IJ '" go.Tut^he HnnS St' 

l1UidVv7a'C,^?''''' ''"■'-^ thkMa^tfi 

sheS.^"^'"""'"*"'^ •>" '"'°^^- "H^shl Huskl" 

»iJ'i'"7^ the child. Therefore she was elad when itdi«> 
glad that she had the power to wound me It, de^th i. n^ 

was a tone m her letter-I have it stiU-wliich betrayed thJ^ 



THE WINDS OF AUTUMN 



fis 



And therefore— therefore, for the child's sake, I wiU never 
forgive her I" 

"1 am sorry," she murmnred in a voice which ackiiow- 
ledesd defeat. " I am very sorty." 

He stood for a moment gazing at the blank space above 
.the fireplace ; hu head snnk, his shonlderg brought forward, 
^e looked years older than the man who had walked under 
the elms. Ac length he made an effort to speak in his usual 

" Yes," he said, " it is a sorry business." 
" 6r^^ ^'" '*" "'^ ohiilj, " can do nothing ? " 
thin •• ^'" ^^ "^^^ "^''"* *'" '^^ *'*' ^^ '" 

..rn^'T"" "* ""^ **' "'*" "I no mistake?" she pleaded. 
" That you are not judging her harshly ? " 
" There is no mutake.''^ 

herlSnd ** *'' "** hopelessness of ailment and held out 

"Forgive me," she said. "I have given you pain, and 
for nothmg. But the old days were so strong upon mc-after 
I saw her— that I could not but come. 'Think of me, at least, 
as a fnend— and forgive me." 

He bowed low over her hand, but he gave her no assur- 
ance. And seeing that he was mastering his agitation, and 
feanng that if he had leisure to think he might resent her 
acUon, she wasted no time in adieux. She glanced round the 
well-remembered hall-the hall once smart, now shabby— in 
which die had seen the flighty girl playmany a mad prank. 
Ihen she turned sorrowfully to the door, more than suspecting 
that she would never pass through it again. 
i He had rung the bell, and Mapp, the butler, and the two 
Vmen were m attendance. But he landed her to the carria»te 
■ SfVu' '^'^ P'*°^ ''*'■ '° '' ^''^ old-fashioned courtesy, and 
with the same scmpulous observance stood bareheaded until 
It moved away. None the less, his face by its set expression 
betrayed the nature of the interview! and the carriw! had 
wareely left the grounds and entered the park when Lady 
' Lvmsa turned to her mother. 

^' Wm he very angry ? " she asked, eager to be instructed 
in the mysteries of that life which she was entering. 

Lady Lansdowne essayed to snub her. "My dear," she 
«aid, " It is not a fit subject for yon." 

F 



66 



CHIPPINGE 



child in a momeDt Be^ „»,;?.„ ^'""*='^ '."f" M™- F"'" 
::««, don't aay >V ^rai^J.^ r' '^'' '^ '^" 

" Is it a ca«, like Umt, mother ? " ^e asked eagerly- 

"'S''*.»«'«' «iU'or found ,n.,tl,or 
To iree the hollow hoau fmu, p«i„i„„ 

The murka of that which cno^ hulh been • •■ 

Wk^g aThe'r" "^"^ "'" ^^^^ihc daughter without 

then Bho told her daugh Lr m^ uZ T", 'f '''*'/■ "'"1 
M«. Fairchild wonld hJo^^^ 't » to he fea.^ than 

f^^M' when he w,. atXmn.li?i£r^ T' ''T °' 
" had nerer occurred to hr^lKt^^"^'^,,™"' "<"' 

master'* after-lnncheon nan JmiTi. ™® "^"^^ 'or his 

the light which fiS k^^'^liteViS "5"' u^?^' ""d 
occentuate* than hUo .1^ .u /* '''® *"««' which rather 
faded ^^llta^a^ 'ft^? °^ "■« dead The 
wali., fte'^ScXTh^^-'^^f >°i'' 'Wch masked the 
ink and itrewnTSiZwd i.^T"'!L*'°,' "*^«d with 
chair long won. oat rf .W^v^? •"'.'h^'ber-covered 
it with yerterdsy's *«3 two L !l*^'' "". ^^^ ^i'' 
Anti-Jacobm, and tl^ SLz J 'Hi** '°'"'nes of the 

all to his o^ned ej^, ^^^^'h* '??""' "^ ""d d««ty_ . 
l«nea eyes wore a changed aspect. They spbie 



THE WINDS OF AUTUMN 



67 



of the slow djcay of years, unchecked by a woman's eye, a 
woman's hand. They told of the slow degradation of his 
lonely life; They indicated a like change in himself. 

He stood a few moments on the hearth, looking about him 
with a shocked, pauied face. The months and the years had 
passed irrevocably, while he sat in that chair, poring in a kind 
of lethargy over those books, working industriously at those 
accounts. Asked, ho had answered that he was growing p!J, 
and grown old. Bat he had never for a moment compre- 
hended, as he comprehended now, that "he was old. He liad 
never measured the difference between this and that ; between 
those days troubled by a hundred annoyances, cares, humilia- 
tions, when in spite of all he hod lived, and these days of 
sullen stagnancy and mere vegetation. 

He found the room, he found the reflection intolerable. 
And he went out, took with an unsteady hand his garden bat 
and returned past the church to that broad walk under the 
elms which was his favourite lounge. Perhaps he fancied 
that the wonted scene would deaden the pain of memory and 
restore him to his accustomed placidity. But his thoughts 
had been too viulently broken. His hands shook, his lip 
trembled with the tearless passion of later life. And when 
his agitation began to die down and something like calmness 
snpervened, this did but enable him to feel more keenly the 
pangs, not of remorse, but of regrets of bitter unavailing 
regret for all the things of which tlie woman who had lain 
on his bosom had robbed his life. 

Stapylton lies in a side valley projected among the low rich 
liills wiuch fringe the vale of the Wiltshire Avon. From 
where he stood all within sight, the low downs above the 
hou«, the arable Uud which fringed them, the rich pastures 
lowest of all — all, mill and smithy and inn, snug farm and 
thatched cottage, called him owner. Nay, from the south end 
of the pool, where a wicket gave entrance to the park and to 
a footroad across it — and w-hence a side view of the treble 
front of the house could be obtained — the spire of Chippinge 
church was visible, rising from its ridge in the Avon valley ; 
and to the base of that spire all was his, all had been his 
father's and his grandfather's. But not an acre, not a rood, 
would be his child's. 

That was no new IhongLt. It was a thought that had 
saddened him on many and many a summer evening when the 



** CHIPPISGE 

time, of the ineviffi^nS 'f^ P^owt'ow. of the parage of 
And the heir would walk ^™ wmtUer his father had gone. 

twaight <^iii.g?tr'te L:^,i '^z^ — 

Cedes ooempU, ultibm, et dwo 
Vlllaqne, flariia quam Tiberi. layit 
teilss, et ejitmotu in altum 
Divitii» potietnr heres 

wrung from him by the bittpm.r «f I- * i™^' "^ '"'' ^"'^^ 
hi8 hSnse unto him d^oC Tf = .f ^.''PS'. ^e had loft 
the child wonTdlmvc r^^ded JLZhif K''i'L!''' ^ ^'^'^' 
that had been much S d,e ^fld^ *":? ^If" '°™"^"!'' 
h««t he laid her d»th at hf w.V "^d^ ''^j '"'^J." '"'' 
or one in essentials a stranger the de^nd.ifK'' ""^^"'j 
-rnage of his g„.ndmothef, kt^L^T fe^, "C!?^ 

chatteHo^ te sS!j;toc"o?^ ""rt '«"' «"= °M 
old horses would te shot tL nM ^ or lumber-room. The 
old servants di^ha^^°i'S^ "'if^f """'^ be hanged, the 
walked and whic~o^Tnld J^i^ '^ nuder which he 

sunshine,t^twi.ightofro:^ta:^ttt^^^ 

Sunday by Sunday k- -lad read those lines nn il,. 
kinsman, a man whom ae hadknT^ H K °, *,! ^''^ °' » 
them ; they were as f«^l,T„?tr ^ ^ad of ten repeated 
his mother's toee T^ly tl,« nlj?'"*^"" ''•' ^ '«'™«i »' 
times, which LadriJidowne h«I r^""™"."**, ^d the old 
gave them a new L^g^nd at rbitt^^r. '""^ ''" '^' 



CUAPTEK VIII 

A SAD MIHADVBHTURE 

Arthub Vaughak was much and honeitly relieved by tbe 
tidings which Isaac White had conveyed to him at Chippen- 
ham. The news freed him from a duty which did not appear 
the less distMteful becanse it was no longer inevitable. To 
cast against Sir Robert the vote which he owed to Sir Robert 
must, whatever the matter at stake, have exposed him to 
odium. But at this election, at which the issue was, aye or no, 
was the borough to be »wept away or not, to vote " aye " was 
an act from which the least sensitive must have shrunk, and 
which the most honest must have performed with reluctance. 
Add the extreme exasperation of public feeling, of which 
every day and every hour broDght to light the most glaring 
proofs, and he had been fortunate indeed if he had not incurred 
some general blame as well as the utmost weight of Sir Robert's 
displeasure. 

He was spared all this, and he was thankful. Yet, when he 
rose on the mommg after his arrival at Bristol, his heart was 
not as hght as a feather. On the contr.iry, as he looked from" 
the window of the White Lion into the bustle of Broad Street, 
he yawned ; admitting that life, and particularly the prospect 
before him, of an immediate return to London, was dull 
Why go back ? Why stay here ? Why do anything ? The 
Woolsack ? Bah I The Cabinet ? Pooh 1 They were but 
gaudy baits for the shallow and the hard-hearted. Moreover 
they were so distant, so unattainable, that pnrsnit of them 
seemed the merest moonshine ; more especially on this fine 
April morning,, made for nothing but a coach ride through an 
enchanted country, by the side of the sweetest face, the 
brightest eyes, the most ravishing figure, the prettiest bonnet 
that ever tamed the gruffest of coachmen. 

Heigh-ho I If it were nil to do over again how happy 



CHIPPINGE 



70 

would pW no7ooZh' trick,''' The'^H"" *" '"'"'• ^or ho 
1-fe, and U conld not folbw h^ uSIT- °'" '° ''" ""^ in 
was no preacher, and he ffiivS for Z J°^°'7 *° ''«'•• "« 
I'm, ,f not worse than thTiiv^ of thoS^? ""i"^ ""^ ''^°''' 
disguise ! who, if they did not lin mo™ descendants, wore no 
i^ut he had a heart, and t^ Zr „r'- """^ '""" "Ponly- 
pl«.sure had shocked Mm • ev™ if .I.!"""^-"' ''^« '°^ his 
self-rospect. disclosed by a hnnS sL ?^l.^' \.'°.°^'*'^ """^ 
the notion of wronging herabSLnT xJ''"^'.'^ "<" ""de 
his breakfast in a kind nf^ri "t- ^""^ the less he took 

«»es in differe"nt*touild'.'^VsuTrf "''"^i" '^^ 
waiter, was irritable. ^ snddenlj accosted by the 

and^^t'tt '^n« rC-uTT^*? .^7 ''^ «™ '^-'•ncs 
to tbeBpst office to b^ra;^hLL^Z'"»l^ '*"«■•^ He sent 
and hen only, when he ha/wfen thp i^ ^'^uT"'' to town : 

towards Clif^tt "card hS n'ate^"' 'S'!""'-* '» "Jk 
that the speaker was the ladyZ bS^L^i'T''*' h« ^w 
walking up and down btSde the S'h k"^ ^h^^ remarked 
changing at Marshfield ^^''' '^'"le the horses were 

.^ nfrai^^tTlL?^: f^- «^« '«" ^o« her reil 
-TanciedtiTihew^'ir^'jCtr'- "T««."he^d. He 
veil. "I am Mr. CgS'^ ^"^ """^ '''<*«'y 'trough her 

something which belong to t" h^'Jl' '^ °{««'- ^ l«°e 
life had hung upon it.*"* " InZd^;?; '^^"^ 'hat blush if his 

^'^•■aiife'i^t ^~"• ""'^ '^"- 

"and wa, taken to m^ ^ml^'X£'^' ^7 e-ph.incd, 
I am leaving BristJ wilSn a feT ^PT' l- "f"«>mately 
™.^f return i. : .,,, ^\':Z^^,::U\^^Jl 



A SAD MISADVENTURE- 



71 
Bnt 



She apoko as if tho thing were a matter of course. 
Vanghan oad now recovered nimself. 

" I wonld with pleasnre," he said ; " but I am rnvBelf 
leaving Bristol at midday, and I do not know how — how I can 
do it." 

"Then perhapa you will arrange the matter," the lady 
replied in a lone of displeasare. " I have sent the parcel to 

5onr room, and I have not time to regain it. I most go now. 
'here in my maid. Oood morning I " And with a distant bow 
she glided from him, and disappeared through the nearest 
doorway. 

He stood where ske had left him, looking after her in 
bewilderment For one thing he was sure that she was a 
stranger, and yet she had addrased him in the tone of one who 
liad a right to bs ohered. Then how odd the thing was I 
What a coincideace ! He had made up his mind to end the 
matter, to go and walk the Hot Wells like a good boy ; and 
this happened and tempted him. 

Yes, tempted Urn. 

He woald Bat he conld not tell what he wonld do 

nntil he had seen if the parcel were really in his room. The 
parcel I The mere thoa^ht that it wag her parcel sent a foolish 
thrill throagh him. He would go and see, and then 

But he was interrupted. There were people standing or 
sitting round the hall, a iow-oeiled, dark-wainscoted room, 
with sheaves of way-bills hung a;;aiiist the square pillars, and 
theatre notices Hanking the bar window. As he turned a 
hand gripped his arm and twirled him ronnd, and he met the 
grinning face of a man in his old regiment. Bob Flixton, 
commonly called the Honourable Bob. 

" So I've caught you, my lad," sold he. " This is mighty 
fine. Veiled ladie?, eh ? Oh, fie ! fie I " 

Vanghan, innocent as he was, was a little pat out. Bat 
he answered good-humonredly — 

" What brought you here, Flixton ? " 

"Ay, just so I Very unlucky, ain't it ?" grinning. "Pear 
I'll cut yon out, eh ? You're a neat artist, I must say." 

" I do not know the good lady from Eve I " 

" Tell that to but here, let me make you known to 

Breretoa," baoling him towards a gentlemin who was seated 
in one of the window recesses. " Old West Indian man, in 
charge of the recrmting district, and a good fellow, but a bit of 



'* CHIPPINGE 

ilewM for ever damninethSTl,ri-* '"8'' "P'^'on of C 
decision : a mnn «l7i. f '."'° P™BinK that wit h n-n • • 

opt aftervrarda ? " n.„. . ' ■°^'"' I say u too t " 
•ntothe argame^ t a 0^^°^ ^'"™«d. dewing Vau,,han 
sequence, ajr dear tt.TthWd^ "F"''^''^'' Kn? 



A SAD MISADVENTURE 73 

and dangcroM excitement. Cobbctf. writingi have roused tlio 

to try them I Not a farmer can ileep for thinking of hi* 

?^^v: ° V 'J^T' ? "''* '<"■ '•'''""n? of her hu.uanl. Then 
to the North : look at Birmingham and Manchester and 
Otajgow, with their Pohtical Unions preaching no taxation 
wrthout repra^sntation. Or, nearer home, look at Bristol here. 
A ^Im'Vk ' Corporation, and Wether*ll in particnlar 
in the Float I Then, if that is the state of things While they 
shll expect the Bill to pass, what will be the portion if they 
fch'f tl^'i" P« ? No I Yon may sbruK*;Dnr shoulders, 
but the three days in Paru will be nothing to it." 

gi ". . D \ ^y "j ''"'°' ' " ^'"'on answered hotly. " Shoot 1 
^iTi wi.' >? •^°'^" ' Put an end to it I Show 'em their 

places I Wh^ do a lot ,1 d d shopkeepers and peasante 

rhe°Fl!^?h"" f'"f Bide W down I ol^e 'em a ?^ol 
the Float theinselves I I'll answer for it a troop of the 14th 
would soon bring the Bristol rabble to their sens^ I " 

I should be som; to see it tried," Brereton answered, 
shaking his head. « f hey took that line in France test W 
and yon know the result You'll agree with me, Mr. Vaughan 
that where Marmont failed we are not likely to succeed. The 
mow as his failure is known. The three days of July are known." 
Ay, by the Lord," the Honourable Bob cried. "The 
reyolntion in France bred the whole of this trouble I " 

• • ,, ^°^ **" """' """J tlJe mob here know it. In mv 
opinion, Brereton continued, "conciliation is our only card i! 
we do not want to see a revolution." 

" Hang your concUiation I Shoot, I say I " 
" What do yon think, Mr. Vaughan ? " 

" ih«Mt^.'n''i"'* ^r* ^"•?"'' Drefe'OD." Van,>ban answered, 
that the only way to avoid such a crisis as has befallen France 
w to pass the Bill, and to set the Constitution oq a wider basis 
by enlisting as large a number as possible in iU defence." 

.. n^ h""^ ' ^t Lorf ! " from Flixton. 
j-,„,„V{? ■£? • . ' ^'i'^}" Vaughan continued, " I would put 
(town the beginnings of disorder with a strong hand. I would 
allow no intimidation, no violence. The Bill should be passed 
by aiwnment. r~-~ 

.»,r3T.TS."' . ^Mt ^ n n»e, intimidation is your 

argument! the right Honourable Bob struck in, with more 
acuteness than he commonly evinced. " Pass the BiU, or we'll 



^* CHimNGE 

""nnjJl'^ AndheleftthJbT ' '° ' 

to tate §,. mi'Z'nJht fy"^"* '"'**^""' «*"'«' »« »» nn.We 

give the order to flre?" '»*•»«. yon would not hetitate to 
,e^,7««""'7. -ir, if it oonld not be put down with the cold 

war, and I have It i. XrfS thi„T''L/'?L!?7« »«>' -^n 
worw here. The flwt •hrt-think^w^'''^' 'nA^'Wy 

1 might be fho begin" ngiWhih^n^L,^'"!**"' »' """t 
live, might hang^n it 1 m^.^^"'^ thon«andi of 

.hot down..of fa»K m^rfS;^^ "Hr^".""*" 
And to give gach an ordor »w fk^ „ "* "hnddered. 
signal for% civil C, anrtwe2-^/h"*' '"■■?^' »* "*« 
dozen counted in a bla^ ! TtilT ' -S". °'"' '"¥''' we a 
horrible I If, J^ 3,' fi' " '"""^ « t» 'hink of it I To^ 
would do it-heiL no f„„f M """^ > Aonlde« I piixton 
I. Mr. Vanghanll^d on t^'. J! """P i"" '"^ ' »"' you a„d 
ntterlv. tJnj ^^^r^'^^^Jp'-^-^' which ^htt 

•»,„-»t\ "Wfeton answered easerlv mw-i, • 
when that point is reached, whM ^f„) ^Lu^" " '<> «y 
more ? Or, gianted that thev c^TI^? "'*"'?^' **» "J" "o 
tion given, yonr foKe^smliZ te\Z^^^' """• P"'^'^- 
ma^ in ,nch a place a. thfar '^ *°' ' '"'"««« • A 

-q.t UB hope that the o^Zf ZytttSi,^T^,i 

b.An4'Ll^,rGT|^ »«^'". '' 

1 he shadow lay darker on fiis face ^™"' '" he muttered. 

-tnartfiLt^x^KJ^^'"^'-" '"'^ -t 

tnmt,ea to dine with him tSnex'eTent" "'"^ ™P°^ 



A SAD MISADVENTURE 75 

"Oagfl and Congrevo of the lUli arc coming 'from 
OIonoMter, ho said, "and t'odrinfrton and two or three 
yeomanry chape. Yon mtwt como. If yon don't, 111 qnaircl 
with yon and call yon ont 1 It'll do von good after the mnity, 
fnety, goody-goody life you've been leading. Brereton'g com- 
ing, and we'll drink KingBilly till we're blind 1 " 

Vanghan hceitated. He had taken his place on the coach, 
bat— bnt after all there was that parcel. He mnit do lome- 
thing aboat it. It seemed to be hia fate to be tempted, yet 
—what nonsenie that was I Why shonld he not stay in Brirtol 
if ha pleoied ? 

" Ton're very good," be said at last. " I'll stay." 

Yet on his way to his room he pansed, half-mindcd to go. 
Bat he was ashamed to change hia mind again, and he strode 
on, opened his door, and saw the parcel, a neat little • ffwr, laid 
on the t tble. 

It bore in a clear handwriting the address which he had 
seen on the basket at Mary Smith's feet. Bnt, pos8il)ly because 
an hour of the Honourable Bob's company had brushed the 
bloom from his fancy, it moved him little. He looked at it 
with something like indifference, felt no inclination to kiss it, 
and smiled at his past folly as he took it up and set off to 
return it to its owner. He nad exaggerated the affair and hLs 
feelines. He had made much ont of littlo, and a romance ont 
of a chance encounter. He could smile now at that which had 
moved him yesterd ly. Certainly : 

Man'a lore ii of nuui'i lifo u thing; apart, 
'Tis womui'i whole cxiatenoc ; mnn may range 

The Oonrt, camp, Ohuroh, the vo««el and the mart, 
8wor.l, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange 

Pride, famo, amUtion to fill ap hia heart. 

And the Hononiable Bob, with his brecsy self-assertion, had 
brought this home to him, and, with a pufT of everyday life, 
had blown the fantasy away. 

He was still under this imprefwion when he reached Queen's 
Square, once the pride of Bristol, and still, in 1881, a place 
handsome and well inhabited. Uniformly and substantially 
built, on a site surrounded on three sides by deep water, it lay, 
indeed, over-near the quays, of which, and of the basins, it 
enjoyed a view through several openings. Bat in the reign of 
William IV. merchants were less averse from living baside their 



"•etocofr >isoumoN tisi chait 

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHAKT No. 2) 




I.I 



iti 



In 



_^ /1PPLIED IMHGE Ine 

^p^ 1653 Cud Moin Strc«l 

=>..S RochnUr, N«w York 14609 USA 

'■as (716) 482-0300 -Phan« 

^E (716) 2U - 5969 - Fax 



76 

CHIPPINGE 

Tort than they are now Th 

»nd though man» 7.t ,1. ^'^^ master's eye wa. .(.ii • 

a coast?„.7j:^« "-"JSto the proximt^r^^^^ 



rr, "y"»re was as easilv rf^iTJT^ "" tlKe 
better quarter, and^LT?.!'' '""^ ^^^ ^o 



"liioh eren a '?!,?'''•''''«'« g^«ed o^ K'^' »\th « girls' 



A SAD MISADVENTURE 77 

brazen without, he advanced and stood beside her. She heard 
nis step, and, nnsnspicious as the yoaneest of her flock InntnH 
round to see who came-looked, and Jw him sLdTn^ wTthin 

}lo7^' r. ^*"; /"' '^« ""'°"«"' P»rt of a second he 
mn?^ u/ "' of glad surprise in her eyesTThen, if anything 
conld have punished him, it was the sifcht of her confis^n • 

to Z J^'t °^ "^'""^ "^"^ """^^ ••«' ^«* Th^Z; 

nsnl 1 He had followed her when he should have known 
that in her position a breath of scandal was ruin 1 And oh 
the round eyes of the round-faced child beside her ! 

I must apologise," he murmured humbly, " but I am not 
repassing upon you without a cause I-f'think tCtW 

mffi'i,- \'"^v'^^''" ^""^'y- *<"■ ">« '!"*«« in ter face 
troubled hun, he held out the M-cel. 

She put her hand behind her, and as stiffly as Miss Sibson 
-of the Queen's S<iuare Academy for Young Ladies of the 
Genteel and Professional ClassesAionld have desired. "I do 
not understand, sir," she said. She was pale and red by turns, 
as the round eyes saw. j •"^•^ 

" Yon left this in the ooach." 

" I beg your inrdon ? " 

"You left this in the coach," he repeated, turning very 
red himself. Was it possible that she m^t to repudiate heJ 
own__ property because he brought it ? "It is yours, is it 

"No." 

" It is not I " in incredulons astonishment. 
" No." 

"But I am sure it is," he persisted. Confound it. this 
was overdoing modesty 1 He had no desire to eat the girl I 

if L .'. ?^f^ *^ **^''' "n<* '' ^"^ y°" address Spon 
D u ,-*^nd he tried to place it in her hands. 
But she drew back, with a look of reprobation of which he 

would not have believed her eyes capable. 

i..J'^' 'f..°°A T\*' *"■;" "^^ ™'^ "Be good enough to 
!r' ™. V ^""^ then, drawing herself up, mild creature as 
she was, You are mtmding, sir," she said. 

Now, if Vanghan had really been guilty of approachine 
her upon a feigned pretext, he had certainly retired on that 



78 



CHIPPINGE 



with hw tail bctwocii bis logs. Bat being iimoctnt, and both 
iiicrcdulons aud angry, he stood his ground, and bis eves gave 
back some of the reproach which hers darted. 

" 1 am either mad or it is yours," he said stubbornly, heed- 
less of the ring of staring children who, ceasing to play, had 
gathered round them. " It bears your name and address, aud 
It was left in the coach by which you travelled yesterday. I 
tbiuk, Miaa Smith, yon will be sorry afterwards & you do not 
take It. ' 

She fancied that his words imported a bribe ; and in despair 
of riddiug herself of him, or in terror of the tale which the 
children would tell, she took har courage in both hands. 
" You say that it is mine ? " she said, trembling visibly. 
" Certainly I do," he answered. And again he held it ont 
to her. 

But she did not take it. Instead, " Then bo good enough 
to follow me," she replied, with something of the prim dignity 
of aie schoolmistress. "Miss Oooke, will you collect the 
children and bring them into the house ? " 

And, avoiding his eyes, she led the way across the road to 
the door of one of the houses. He followed, but reluctantly, 
and after a moment of hesitation. He detested the scene 
which he foresaw, and bitterly regretted that he had ever 
set foot inside Queen's Square. To be suspected of thrusting 
an intrigue upon a little schoolmistress, to be dragged, with 
a pack of staring, chattering children in his train, before some 
grim-faoed daennar—he, s man of years and affairs, with whom 
tne thanoellor of England did not scorn to speak on equal 
terms ! It was hateful ; it was intolerable. Yet to turn 
back, to say that he would not go, was to acknowledge himself 
gmlty. He wished— he wished to heaven that he had never 
seen the girl. Or at least that he bad had the courage, when 
she first denied the thing, to throw the parcel on the seat 
and go. 

It was not an heroic frame of mind ; but neither was the 
position heroic. And something may be forgiven him in the 
circumstances. 

Fortunately the trial was short. She opened the door of 
the house, and on the threshold he found himself face to face 
with a tall, bulky woman, with a double chin and an absurdly 
powdered nose, who wore a cameo of the late Qaeen Charlotte 
on her ample bosom. Miss Sibson had vi?wed the encounter 



A SAD MISADVENTURE y. 

Perhaps Mar/, aware that her place was at stake, was 

"This gentleman, madam," she explained, speakiim with 

fhrZ.h'"'"^'']""^ ^^1 7" °" fi«,"tmvelie/v;^^th°mo o" 
the coach yesterdajr. A few minute, ago ho appeared and 

aMressed me, and insisted that the-the parcel ^.^0^^^ 

mine, and that I left it in the coach. It is not nO^tnd 

I have not seen it before." ' 

Miss Sibson folded her arms upon her ample person. The 
lK)sition was not altogelher new to her. 

"Sir," she said, eyeing the offender majestically, "have 
jou any explanation to offer-of this extraordinary conduct ? " 

. Ml* . , • '^^- ,^ '^'^'■'y •» ^'s temper permitted he 
Iwldlus tale, his tone half ironical, half furious. '^"^'"^ "° 

miZ. \!S P""*^' " '*"?" ^° y°" "*y Ka^'s i' <» yo" ? " Miss 
oitisou asked in a deep voice. 

ooacih."*' °°'' ''°°'' °"'°*" -^ "^^^ ''^° *'^''^*^ "» '•»= 

Mms Sibson's frown grew even deeper. " Thank vou " she 

rcpUed, "that will do. I have heuTeno- " wd Sunder? 

W"^ understand, sir. Be good en..^. to l^ve to 

"But, madam " 

"Th«M/«'^/"°"^''-'?- '«'^«.ti« honse." she repeated. 

That IS the door," pointing to it. " That is the doo^ sir 1 

Any apology you may wish to make yon can make by letter 

m-fitttngr° °^ '"" u°dei8tandl I think one were not 

with^a a l^^tdtnlXr'^ ""'' "^^ '* """« "'^ ^^'' 

be S'°.?Vrm"a^\:StradtV^'' "" ''' »°' "^"^'" 
i„„A!"^.v® ^""/ """^ •"■* "''^' tampered and made hnmiliat- 
^hh!.,^' '"'t °i "*' ?"?""■ ''^°' marshalled by the 

dn^^;f/ ► Tl """J ^* roind-eyed themselves, blocked the 
doorway at Uiat unlucky moment. He broke through them, 
however, without ceremony, though they represented the most 



8o 



CHIPPINGE 



rwpoctable families in Bristol, and with his head bent ho 
strode wrathfuUy across the Square. "" 

.),„J„° »^ '?">«d,.,ont of a girls' boarding-school I To be 
shown ^0 door like some wretched philanderi]^ achooLv 
or a mibaltem in his fir^t roily 1 He, the mtn o^f the wori^' 

"The little <»t I" he cried as he went. "I wish I h«A 
nev«_«en her face 1 What a fool, what a fLl w.s't 

tl,.™°3"°'^ '""^ r^ ''° unhoroic mood. Bat thoneh 
there were heroes before Agamemnon, it is not certain that 
there w.re any after Geoi^e the Fourth. At an^^te «,1 

„;n k ^ that she was at that moment weeping very bitteri7 

ted PoIX^i^^'^ '°'° "^i P'"""^ °f her notUer^lnxS 
b^. For she was yonng, and a woman. And because in W 
position, the name ofloye was (iaboo- b^nST^ hpr fh- 
admmn? look, which to a more fortraUT^ w» homaL^ 

trtrifl«th^'; ^T ^^'P"^" ""''". 'he ..wr"tbe nX 
the tnfle th^ to another were more precious than jewels waS 

thtl tf'i' ^'^ r^.foUow that shrwas not flSh aTd bl^ 
that she had not feeUng, affection Daasimi T™. fiT-. ™ ' 
was soon d««lened, for filbit U Znr l^e, tRto K 

thmX nf"^ ^™" "^'"h ho liad snatched hfr, not"u^ 



CHAPTER IX 

THE Bir,L FOU OiVINO KVBBYBODY EVBRYTHINO 

It ig difficult to describe and impossible to exaggerate the 
heat of public feeling which preceded the elections of '31 
Four-fifths of the people of this country believed that the 
Bill— from which they expected so much that a satirist gave 
It the title at the head of this chapter— had been defeated 
m the late House by a trick. For that trick the King, God 
bless him, had pnnish)^ the House by dissolving it. It 
remained for the pemle to show their sense of the trick by 
returning a very different House ; such a house as would 
not only pass the Bill, but pass it by a majority so decisive 
that the Lords, and particularly the Bench of Bishops, 
whose hostility was known, would not dare to oppose the 
public will. "^"^ 

But as no more than a small proportion of these four-fifths 
iMd votra, they were forced to act, it they would have their will 
obeyed, indirectly ; in one place by the legitimate pressuie of 
pubhc opinion, in rmother by bribery, in a third by intimidation, 
in a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth by open violenci: ; every- 
where by the unspoken threat of revolution. And hence arose 
I m°^ ^°*^' '"""^' "nd firm argument against the BUI which 
the Tory party enjoyed. 

One or two of their other arguments are not without 
interest, if only as the defence set up for a system so anomalous 
as to seem to us incredible— a system under which Gatton, 
With no inhabitants, returned two members, and Sheifield, 
with something like a hundred thousand inhabitants, returned 
none ; under which Dnnwich, long drowned under the North 
Sea, returned two members, and Birmingham returned none ; 
under which the City of London returned four, and Lord 
Lonsdale returned nine ; under which Cornwall, with one- 
fourth of the population of Lancashire, returned thrice as 
8i u 



8a 



CHIPPINGE 



many represontutives ; niidjr which the South vautlT out. 
weighed the North, and land mightily outweighed alf other 
property. 

Moreover, in no two boroughs was the franchise the tame. 
Wor W88 thu the worst. One man lived in a hovel and had a 
vote ; hu neighbour lived in a mansion and bad no vote. And 
often the whole of the well-to-do townsfolk were voteless. Then 
while any man with five thousand pounds might bny a seat 
nor see the face of a single elector, on the other hand, the poll 
might be kept open for fifteen days, and a county election 
might cost two hundred thousand pounds. Bribery, forbidden 
m theory, was permitted in practice. The very Government 
bribed under the rose, and it was said that all that a man's 
constituents required was tc be satisfied of the impwitu of his 
mtentions I 

An anomalous system ; yet its defenders had somethine to 
say for it. " 

First, that narrow as the franchise seemed, every clast found 
somewhere in England its monthpiece. At Preston, where all 
could vote who slept in thfl borrtigh the previous night, the 
poorest, ay, the tramps s in the potwalloping boicnghs where a 
fireplace gave a vote, the next class ; in a city like Westminster, 
the ratepayers ; in the otanties, the freeholders ; in the nni- 
versities, the clergy. And so on, the argument being that the 
verr anomalies of the system provided a mixed representation 
without giving the masses a preponderant voice. 

Secondly, they said that it insured a House of ability by 
enabling young men of parts, but small means, to obtain seats. 
Xhose who upheld this flourished a long list of statesmen who 
had come in for nomination boroughs. It began with Pitt 
and ended with Macanlay— a feather plucked from the enemy's 
wing J and Burke stood for much in it. It became one of the 
commonplaces of the struggle. 

■ ^%, '^'"^ contention was of greater weight. It was that, 
with aU ite abuses, the old system had worked well. This 
argument, too, had its commonplace. The maxim, ttart super 
antiguM viat, wag thundered from a thousand platforms, 
coupled with copious references t» the Frent'.i wars, and to 
the pilot who had weathered the storm. This was the 
areument of the old, and the rich, and the timid— of those 
who clung to top-boots in the daytime and to pantaloons in 
the evening. But as the struggle progressed it came to be 



BILL FOR GIVING EVERYBODY EVERYTHING 83 

K^. "■* **°' '*"""l ^'S*""*"' t" wWcU reference luw 

be {"vfflon. ""' ^ ""^ ^'"•" "'-^ '•'•' ^^'"e^- " '»»«" '^'l 
»k "J*o"'W7," tbe Tories rejoined. "And whom have we in 
Jni; J°» ?„?" \''°' ""'"^ '•"> French KevolStiono7l.i? 
i^iS^ * "i-?""; y* UMettled the whole country? Ami 
fo,^ wC? <J«""''«J «veothing, tell n. that we mSrtVnt to 
™Srnn^hl°°'!l"'"°"^'" ^°'" BntiftheBmtato 
It, where wUl this end ? Paw BiUg ont of fear, and whorelJm 

KtMr'Cn^h^"' r -^ I"""'"'? ad'ntSSrm^ 
tC o™, l^"^'^'"' * ""^V «•'«'"«'• "><>« nnscmpnlong 
bt^kS'thaV'i^^f'r'^T^ ^"'"'"' » V^^i^Z 
AltS An^ ^"^ ,. !. *" •""■«" ^'""''o BMer than 

mob.7h'at XtZ?^" "^^ '"" '''" '"' '*™" "' '^^ 
be ll^^K^! Whw, conid onlv reply that the people mo/A 
^J^ i and-and that the BiU must pan. or not on^ 
coronets bnt crowns would be flying. ' 

Dry argnmenta nowadays ; bnt in those rf«n .i.v. . j 1 

Sa°wairttrrH r^'WcTfou'^datn^ 

iSit liw'.V 'ts pocksto might be emptied-of ^ 
waM^hT.nV^^*'^'?? "' pUtfomu candidatesVlea^efor- 
r,r;^.^K "°^ '?''"»• '^"> on« 'wnd under the (^t-£h 

^l^n.""!", '*?*'. ''T''^™' "^'"K eve/whigsf such as S^ 

£«£&''•'•-• ^s'S 

todvm»h«Sfk • A T 8'"."? "^ K'^'e everything to everr- 
S^ I, J *f ". "d^ntage without mercy, kany a borouSi 
which had not known a contest for a cenCTaSnn ml^? 
county, was fonght and captur^. V To^r^r'sJe^no 
burgau,, though signed and «aled, held K „o^ton° 



»4 CHIPPINGE 

though he had deemed hii inoouie from hU borough ai lecore 
a8 any put of hu property, could «ay Ihut hii voters would 
dure to go to the poll. 

This it wu which pretaed on the mind of Isaao White, 
Sir Robert Vermnydctfi agent, as on the day oftor Lady 
Lunidowne 8 visit he drove big gig and fagt-trotting cob up the 
avenue. The treble front of the hoi.je looked down on him 
from ita gentle eminenoo ; ita windows blinking in the after- 
noon unnshine, and the mellow tinU of the stone harmonising 
with the russet bloom which in April garbb the poplar and the 
late-bursting trees. Tradition said that the second baronet 
had bmlt a wing for each of bis two sons. In the result the 
elder son had died and the east wing had been devoted to kitchens 
and offices, and the west to a splendid hospitality. Nowadays 
the latter wmg was so seldom used that it bad almost fallen 
into decay. Lanrels grew up the side windows aiid darkened 
them, and bats lived in the damp chimne^ i. The rooms above 
JMn were packed with the lumbtr of ihe last century, the old 
wig-boxes, the old travelling-tmnks, the old haraichords, even 
an old sedan chair ; while the loWer rooms, swept and bare, 
and hung with flat, hard portraits, enjoyed an evil reputation 
in th servants' qnarteis, where many a one could tell of 
skirts that rustled unseen, and dead feet that trod the polished 

T. Isaac White all this was nought. He had seen the 
house in every aspect j and his mind was filled with other 
things— with votes and voters, with some aniiety on his own 
account and more on his patron's. What would Sir Robert 
say If aught went wrong at Chippinge ? True, the loss of the 
borough seemed impossible ; it had been held securely for 
many vears. Bnt the times were so stormy, public feeling ran 
so nigh, the mob was so rough that nothing seemed impossible, 
in view of the stress to which the Bonndest umdidstes were 
exposed. If Mr. Bankes stood to fail in Doraet, if Mr. Dun- 
combe had small chance in Yorkshire, if Sir Edward Knatch- 
bnll was a lost man in Kent, if Mr. Hart Davies was no better 
in Bristol, if no man but an out-and-out Eeformer could count 
on success, who was safe ? 

His grandfather, his father, he himself had lived and 
thriven by the system which he saw tottering to ite fall. He 
belonged to it, he was part of it ; he marked his allegiance 
to It by wearing top-boote in the daytime and shorts in full 



BILL FOR GIVING EVERYBODY EVERYTHING 85 

H!I?1'.j/"i''* r?*. P"P««d-were it only out of latitude to 
the ladder by which he had riwii-to >tand bv it and hv hi^ 

."Ijobb^t'ti^'Hi^'' "?-«* '"""t- ^W{e"w»ittt 
a V/ODDett man. Hi« aneakinir ■Tmcathiea were in 1ii« n.J. 

tt-r*"" the cla« from whicl C^'^ Ho iw cimmoM 
fllcted from the poor, while the hibSurere ,ell " thSTte?! 
^LT l"'^ '^*' '"'?« '""' '•'« """"t-y to bo .pent "The 
ur ' 1,.' «! "|- ""^'^y °' ""> '"""• "nd specially the rme 
laws; he saw ab-ientee rectors and starving onraui ; he » ' 
the dumb impotence of nine-tentlu, of the pLple :7nd he ^li 
that the OTstem under which these things'hil grown no w« 
wrong. Bu wrong or right.he was part^f it. hf WMpKd 

S^ to ^tiay^t •"* •''^'""' °' "" '''""'"«• '""W "o' i°du^ 

horo^^h'f!!f!!?^TL?*'"'-'^'''^ "^ '■" *e matter of the 
»Tyts thf^Rl\^° '''"'*' """'dc-awake »i became him , 
Zn7hZ' *'^X.^''">^ .■"«=• would not have itolen a march 
upon him. His misnvngs ^rrew as he came in sight rf the 
door, and saw Sir EoW on the flight of steps whicf led to it 
Apparently the teronet had seenlim. forTwh tedrev^m 
a servant "Ppeared to lead the mare to the stable ^ 

Sir Robert looked her over as she wag led awav '• Thn 
grey looks well^hite."h- said She was of Ws'bJSing.^"' 
j,.^. *K^ . ■ i ^"'^ ™* » eood horse and they may 
!nd.Sir— """^ "''"^ ""' "''«' '^*'''- But'lam 
fK."^"' moment I" The servant was out of hearing and 

"Who i^fJZl^ ^' •='"?t' y"*" °fe betn^yed^En 
Wlio IS ttat lookmg over the Lower Wicket, Wl^?" ho 

of a^pd^7a^^tr&^°o}°?tsin:i,^,t^^^^ 

hiS''tff v^^-* '•"« '^•'^ She wa, motSI. il^d h, 

nei;hSrro:ri;d''^s^ti^jrm5j'' "^^^ -^ '- ''-' 

" who^tT""' ^ " '''" '^^'''"*' '"•' ^^ "°™*"^ prudently, 
"Then go and ask her her bnsineas," Sir Robert repiljd, 



** CHIPPINGE 

^Mmr.n.y « -lo -id. ..«ho ,,„, Uoa tbcro « ,o„, 

•anhot. """ '<*'"' "'"> ter when he ciie within 

to tSvan'to- L° 1 .^°'''« •■•"* ' " ^^ «■■<'• " Thuf. the way 
WhS-rerd.''^^'^ '* •""• "^on don't know „.,, Mr 
•'iZ^'"' ham in retnn. "No." ho an.wered bl„ntl,, 
tokenli.^"' ^ k-o" yo«." -ho npm, -.jfow by 

d jon gee. Mr. White , bnt what riinV. ^°'' '"?'«' ^n have, 
more. Anyway •• "' ^°^^« P^n ain't yonn an^ 

"Vm7L^' T"*^; 7°° ««•' ««y here I » 

kbd.T«Vt:tK;;^.?^/<^ 7i yon ^ ^ 

nod ahe tnrned her hJlr «„ .1 f ""^ ""» an imnndent 

dowg the pork towTr.Ke^t^^^"* ""^'^ ^*'°' ""d "eS? oi? 

nothing of her." ' ' ***°* '" "»« head. I wnJd iake 
"ti^^'l'Ji.T " '"P ^'"- " Yon'n. .n« Ae w., a 
perils!"' "" •""' ^ '^°-' «- After one of the n>en 
n.inlpS',aa''i-^- «« ^^^ ^"' a M ten' 
White'?'.^ <'"« -ai-J- "Vexy^Ukdy. And now .hat ,. it 

alte^^'tone*:^ "^'^ '"' ^'"^ •'"^<'." the agent «.id. in an 
"Whatisit?" 

auli';? ««' <^— d Pybns, sir, r, ^f^, ,,^^^ ^,^^ 



BILL FOR GIVING EVERYBODY EVERYTHING 8; 
„^'>«yre/foinirtoflg|jt?" 
I m afraid, Sir Robert, they are " 

ho Im'^VZ^Z^'T'^- ,''\'""'l.'i'.afr.id?" 
oou me money, but f cl7L™ T"^ ]''? '«""- I' »'" 

moro,8naDoth^.Jorit A& il"*^.." '^'" «« "'<" 
The agent. stinSin^ „„ T ' ^ "^"n' "nderstondyoq." 
dubionsly. ^ ^'"» °'' "•« •*«? Wow him, foughe.! 

''B"''a'£!:l';>'''''^°"-y'-'''«'^onablc. li —" 
timo'-^'" '' '^ """='' ««''«'»™' i» the ,«unt7 at thia 

.triWn^ "hf .t^in '"thi".r ""^'" ^'■' «<"«« "torted. 
"crupufonanewVSri » mint n""" "*f. "*> «»«='> nn- 

don't k«ow"-with a wvew loSk^.'wht '°' «'="<«ne'>t. I 
it hai to do with xu." ™" y**" ""e*"". <« what 

" Aifl fmm T>«>roI .'rv»n f 1 II not beheve it I " 
beatenl^ from Doraet. ur. wliere they «,y Mr. Banki. will be 

aev7teet"yJ:''M'lL.Trn^^^^^^^^^^ " ^•» 
Why do von liaten to\mohWe.?m? ?"'*', ^^"^ ' 
p-d. Wfiite what U tCmaZJ with^^L^? ^Z'lf^"i ^' 
touch Di if Mr. Bankei is b^ ? w/~ n I""* ^°^ '' 
fom I Nine willaUU be r^,L , ?" P°" "'"^ ^"te* to 
When you <In make foor to L'Zl^?!" ^"T. if »>« be beaten, 
whining to me r "^ °'°'* "^ »"'« yon """y oome 

quelSoS'i^^^'hLi?. "'"^'^ •"• "" '^'' «««'•"« «>»« 
hea'ta^"'"*'" ""= '»«'"«' <«l»o«i in astonishment. And 
Im'yE^^n ^\^'^'^ "^ «»'»« «>"«. «>d-and think, he 

i-^^t'\S^YZ''^'"^X'^- "Viewsl The 
I >Yiiy, damme, White, yon most be mad 1 



'i 



■■1 



88 



CHIPPINGE 



W^'?.?^'* "^"^ ^""^ '«"»''«"' '"ken to politics, or h«l 

is whir-fS.'^."^' -^'"^ «'°'"»"«y. " '^ tba' 
Sir Eobert s tfilp face tnmed a dull red. " I never heflrf 

hi iJJf'^i An^ K™"? to '<"« for them I Why dmme" 
he oontmned with angiy sarcasm, "we'll have tL teuZ^e 

flte^ I^W^'t"""'".^?'/"? theirXn'^";^''t! 
iH., ^«» '»1^™'« veiy ill, sir," White said severely, "very 

«>oM%^^j^\'' f"^^ "^ '*'"^ «^k he was, the 
w ?^ u- ■"i,''* foamed over afresh, thonjth we need 

for'ZS.'' W;u,^wS^ JeUr. "15 ^ ^^ ^'°" ^ '°'<^ 
bitter contemplLtfonVar Eowf P^'s^ZrT' ^ 

"^8 r r ^ '-"d-^ the^^„sjJr;^^sonndr 

^rVeJ^^n^S*'"^ "■" 9?""°"" ''do on *e ctoTh^h^ 

iSd^uX'^terSSe'^S^,^'^'-'^ "«" """ ^^ 
The agent coughed. 

"W^r?'l^M^T "^J"^^ '"^ked sharply at him. 

'^o s!r"1^§^™^^- " Not another renegaSe'? •• 
..vnn JLu'. "T»"* answered timidly. "But Thrush the 

f^Sri^::vr4^„:!ii»fc ^^ cHpp.es.WyJS? 

wl^' "^ill :^1 J^Jl^Il »i.T_!^Pfe" Sir.Bpbert 



g 



erowled "All m,-™i2. i « *7 .,"'"" ^ppies," hit Kobert 
a fool to think that better men wonid do as well, wd do^ 



BILL FOR GIVING EVERYBODY EVERYTHING 89 

for ie ^'^ ^«"<'"^''' "y «'• FomKfXBL. 
"Porhowlonjff" 
" For a fortnight, sir." 

" The infernal rascal I " he rric/J " it. jij -i. 
a.e;;--e;!S^t,f£?^^ 
ro7o?^l?— ^ <-«'^% n^Fno^r e"^ - 

"wSlLweUl-^^ ^ """''' '^ »"*' """J '*«'" to ^P. 

«ttf ttVrJifdi^^triS^ -5 ,And so it was 
and polling for the 4th ^"^' ** nomination 

" ItW^n'L'*' "'• '^™^''''" '^o^' Sir Robert concluded 
It s weU wo can count on somebody." wnuuuea. 



CHAPTER X 

THE queen's SQnAEB ACADEMY FOB YOUNG LADIES 

Miss Sibson Bat in state in her parlonr in Queen's Square 
Bather more dignified of mien than usnal, and more highly 
irawdered of nose, she waa dividing her attention between 
Me culprit m the corner, the elms ontside— between which 
fledgehng rookg were making adventnrong voyage*— and the 
lon^loth which she was preparing for the yonng ladies' plain- 
sewing ; for in those days plain-sewing was still taught in the 
most select academies. Nor, whils the schoolmistress waa thus 
engaged m providing for the domestic training of her charges, 
was she without assurance that their minds were under care 
The double doors which separated the schoohoom from the 
parlour were ajar, and through the aperture one shrill voice 
after another oould be beard, raised in monotonous perusal 
of Mrs. Chapone's "Lettere to a Yonng Lady upon the 
Improvement of the Mind." 

Miss Sibson wore her best dress, of black silk, secured half- 
way down the bodice by the large cameo brooch. But neither 
this nor the reading in the next room could divert her attention 
from her duties. 

"The tongue," she enunciated with great deameas, as she 
raised the longoloth in both hands and carefully inspected it 
over her glasses, "is an nnrnly member. lil-nature," she 
contmned, slowly metin» off a portion, and measuring a second 
portion against it, " is the fruit of a bad heart Our opinions 
of others —this with a stem look at Miss Hilhouse, fourteen 
yearaold, and in disgrace— "are the reflections of onraelves." 

The young lady, who was paying with the backboard for 
a too ready wit, put out the unruly member, and, narrowly 
escaping detection, looked inconceivably sullen. 

"The face is the mirror to the mind," Miss Sibson con- 
tinued ' iioughtfuUy, as she threaded a needle against the light. 
90 



QUEEN'S SQUARE ACADEMY 



I hope, Miffi Hilhonse, that you 



9« 



fault 



are now sorry for yoar 



Mim HUhouae maintained a stolid Biience. Her Bhonldeis 
acned, but she vras proud. 

"Very good," ^d Miss Sibson, placidly; "very good ! 
With time comes reflection." ' '^ 

Time, a mere minnte, brought more than reflection. A 
gentleman walked quickly across the forecourt to the door, the 
knocker fell sharply, and IJigs Hilhouse's suUenness dropped 
from her. She looked first uncomfortaWe, then alarmed 
Please, may I go now ? " she muttered. 

Wise Miss Sibson paid no heed. "A gentleman?" she 
said to the maid who had entered. " Will I see him ? Procure 
his name." ."vuio 

"Oh, Miss Sibson," came from the comer in an agonised 
wlusper, 'please may I go ? " Fourteen standing on a stool 
with a backboard could not bear to be seen by the other sex 

i™u !, » V ^°°^, 8"^*- " ^« yon sincerely sorry for 
your fault ? " she asked. j =" j lur 

"Yes." 

"And will yon apologise to Miss Smith for your— your 
gross rndoness?" ' ' 

"Tees." 

»i "a '^^^.P »°d„d<' so." Miss Bibsoa replied ; "and close 
the doors after yoa." "».<»«: 

• T^ ^J'j.*^- Sinmltaneonsly Miss Sitaon rose, with a 
mature of dignity and blandness, to receive Arthur VaugUan. 
Ihe sohoolmiBtress of that day who had not manner at 
comiMnd had nothing; for deportment ranked among the 
essentials. And she was quite at her ease. The same could 
not be said of her visitor. But that his pride stiU smarted, 
but that the outrage of yesterday was fresh, but that he drew 
a savage satisfaction from the prospect of the apologies he was 
here to receive, he had not come. As it was, he had told him- 
self more than once that he was a fool to come ; a fool to set 
foot in the house. He was almost inie that he would have 
done more wisely had he burned the letter in whidi the school- 
mistress informed him that she had an explanation to offer— 
and so had made an end. 

Now, if in place of meeting him with hnmWe apologies, 
aie woman was going to bear lerself m if no amen^ were 
due, tie had indeed made a mistake. 



92 



CHIPPINGK 



Yet her manner said almost as mnch as that. "Pray be 
«eat^, la, she laid i and the indicated a chair. 

He sat down rtiffly, and glowered rt her. "I received 
your note," he laid. 

She smoothed her ample lap, and looked at him more 
gmcionsly. 

" Yes," she said, " I was relieved to find that the unfortu- 
nate occurrence of yesterday was open to another explanation." 

rv„* aX^^ ^* ."*!'' erimlj, "to hear the explanotion." 
u>nloana the woman's mipndence I 

"Exactly," she said slowly. "Exactly. Well, it turns 
out that the parcel you left behind you when yon "—for an 
instont a smJe broke the rubicund placidity of her face- 
when yon retu^ so hurriedly contained a pe'lisse." 

" Indeed ?" he said dryly. . 

" A pelisse and a<letter." 

«0h?" 

• * '!A '^'*?,.^? » ^J "•><> fof «ome years has taken an 
Hrterest m Miss Smith. The peliise proved to be a gift from 

"Then I fail to see " 

wJ^P^^^" MJ»Sib8on interposed blandly, indeed too 
h^^i iL^*'°/"'i5*' r '■'y y*"" came to be selected as the 
^^J ..I °°^- Perhaps you can eipUin that." 

No, he answered cnrtlv. "Nor is that my affair. What 

.n/^f^..?!'i,°^"°' " "'■y "'« Sniith did not at once 
snspe(^ that the present came from the lady in question " 

Because," lliss Sibson replied, " the lady was not known 
Z.! . •'". 'if ^. 0' EngWd. And because yon, sir, 
mw^ed that Miss Smiti had left the paroel in the 

" I maintained what I was told." 

." S"'» '-J^ ?°' *''* ^"*- However, let that pass." 
JNo, Vaughan retorted, with some warmth. "For it 
seems to me, madam, extraordinary that in a matter which 
was capaWeof so smple an explanation yon should elect to 
insalt a stranger— a stranger who— " 

yonw^M ^pr*"""^"*? "° "«»« «««' ««> office of civility, 

" Precisely." 

f., IT*""^*^!' ^,Bih»n spoke slowly, and was silent 
for a moment after she had spoken. Then, sbmewhat abruptly, 



QUEEN'S SQUARE ACADEMY 93 

SmTpS" '^'"•' I 'hink'-sho said, "at Mr. Beugough'. 

" Not at Mr. Bongough'g ? " 

^^ I know your name," she said slowly. " But- " 

1 came from London the day before TMti>n1<»r t .,« 

thHti% r'n"*' tl".'"^™- "<^''- indeed," she^ "h 
■^ w ? Well," rubbing a little of the powder from her nos^ 
withaneedl^case, and looking at him Bhrewdir"l think^ 
she continued " that that is the answer to your question "' 

^Thirr'^- V ^° ""'.opderstanlyou?' he »"d. 
M, pi J " ''^^. T™ P"^'y- Were yon an usher at 
Mr Bengough's, your civility-civility I thinkjon called it ? 

tT. oiX'™'?'^"' ^ P™^ ^«'y '«"• Mr. Vanghan Bu 
frl ? 5 °* " Kf""'"?'"'' ^ °' »'"' ""» Dragoons, fraSi 
from London, and staying at the White Lionrto aioMB 
person in M|S8 Smith's position, is apt, r. in this (we^^Jh ?- 
to lead to misconstruction." «w>— on r 

rootarfhistr " '°^™"'^'" ""^ *'■'• «^''«'^8 to tte 

.iniln?^'''''- I"*'"^" Mias Bibson replied. And then, 
without warmng, she gave way to a fit of silent laughter 
wkph <ansed her portly form to shake like a jelly. TWs wm a 
habit with her. attributed by some to her prl4te view of C 

'>^^^'^^*'^.}'^ovledge of the tricks end turns of her sex 

^Idonhf l^/**","^ Bchoolkeeping had endow^ he" 
v..,„K ^I^ °l "^^f"' resentment with which Arthur 

Vaughau regarded her did not shorten the fit. But at ijt - 

YJ^r^.^"'"T'^'" "'^^ '^^' "y°° don't deceivTmel 
Sket'apoS^? '"' ^"^ ""^"'^ '^ •■-' "» °M ~ 
nnf^Kl '"^ V ";«'°'»™ an a«itnde of dignified surprise. 
Sm. Hd°Si"f^K' ^'' '"'^'^^ "^ ''««' ''^'^ *<« -"^ f"^ 
"Upon my honour," he said, " I meant nothing." 



94 



CHIPPINGE 



" You can ttubl mc." 

"1 can truat Min Smilh," ahe retorted, shskini; her 
head. "Her I know, though our aoqaaintanca is of tie 
shortest. Still, I know her from top to toe. You, yomig 
gentleman, I don't know. Mind," she continued, with 
good nature, " I don't iar that you meant any harm when 
vou camo to-day. But I'll wager yon thought that you'd see 
her." 

Yanghan langhed out frankly. Her humour had conquered 
him. 

" Well, he said audaciously, " and am I not to see her ? " 

Miss Sibson looked at him, and rubbed a little more 
powder from her nose. 

" Umph 1 " she said doubtfully. " If I knew you I'd know 
what to say to that. A pretty girl, eh ? " she added, with her 
head on one side. 

He smiled. 

"And a good one ! That I know. And if yon were the 
usher at Mr. Bengough's I'd ask no more, but I'd send for 
her. But " 

She stopped. Vaughan said nothing, but, a little out of 
countenance, looked at the floor. 

There was a pause. Then, " Just so, just so," Miss Sibson 
said, as quietly as if he had answered her. " Well, I am afraid 
I mnet not send for her." 

Ho looked at the carpet "I have seen so little of her," 
he said. 

" And are perhapi a gentleman of property ? " 

" I am independent." 

" Well, there it is." Miss Sibson smoothed out the lap of 
her silk dress. 

"Yet," he i<aid, in some embaimmment,."! do not think 
that five minutes' talk would hnrt her." 

"Umphl" 

He hwghed— a constrained laugh. " Come, Miss Sibson," 
he said. " Let us have the five minutes, and let us both have 
the chance." 

She looked out of tlie window, and mbbed her glasses 
reflectively. 

" Well," she said at length, as if she had not ' nite made 
np her mind, " I will be candid with you, Mr. Vanglwn. I 
did not intend to be so, but you have met me half-way, and 



QUEEN'S SQUARE ACADEMY 55 

I believe you to be a gentieman. TI.e truth is, 1 .hould not 
hare gone u far with tou ai X Lave unleoe "-l,he looked at 
him .nddenly-" I had W a character of vou." 
or me t he cried io astonishment. ' 

" Yea." 

" From Hiw Smith ? " 

Mi»8 Sibson smiled at his simplicity. " Oh no." she ihiiI • 
"yon are going to see the character." And wi h that , ho 

•^T./^"" ^^ "•"■'''X"^ » """^ "'iP of paper, which she 
unfolded and gave to him. "It i. from the lad v." she sid 
" who made use of you yesterday." '' '*"'• 

™J1\'?''! " "» "topwliment On the inner side of the 
aX-h^'^'riU^g""""' '^*"'*^' •'" ^ » '^ -<»*• ta 
m.y"^tL^'''' '""° •'" "^ godmother. The bearer 
..tY*°5''*°/'*™^ "'" *« P^Per in undiminished suroriae 
di's°K^rm''e'p'"''^ ""'• "-^^ " '"« •^^ -^ '^' 

iZ.W**"^"''.' "^ '^ """ J:»"^ •'*' »»'»«• B»t Miss S^tyJ 
edncation-she has never known her parent»-was defravrf 

hJ^Wn'''M*^^8??'°''."'*'- ^d 0"^ « year Mii sS 
»^„„^ J° *• '?'"' "'■ ."^'^"i? " P'*. of '"■ne value to 

S^ZS^g"'"''''' ^'""'' **~"'p^'^ "y » ^•'^ ''<'«»• » 

thatWgXS-l^-?''" ■^"^ '^''' " '°" '*""' '»'•' -'««- 
n. ."t ?^*" '"' inference," Miss Sibson replied drrlv. "save 
that I have r,uthority from-sball 1 say her KoZXr!!!! 
trust you further than I should have trust^'Z Th^^ 
the only inference 1 draw. But I have one tWg to add " 
she contmued. •• Mis3 Smith did not enter my emttent in 
an ordinary way. My late assistant left me aWtly^While 
mJl^ " 'r»w »",9"ey of standing in this city' caUed on 
me md said that a client desired to place a youn- ^rson in 
«rfe hands; that she was a trained teacher.^nd" iSST Uve 
by teachine, but that care was necessary, since she wm verv 
young, anf had more than her share of e^loJw hJ 
Ued Mr. Vaughan, at the inference whicCu, 1 1 lie^e 
have already drawn. And—that is all." ueiieve, 



1 



I 



r 



96 



CHIPPINGE 



Vaugbun looked Ibougbtf ully at the oarpet 

Min Sibaon waited awbile. At but : " llio point is," nhe 
bikid ibrewdly, " do you still with to bare tbe five minntes ? " 

Arthar Vaugban beeilated. He knew that he ought, that 
it wai bis duty, to say " No." But something in the woman's 
hnmoroni eye challenged him, and tecklessly— for tbe gntifi- 
catioD of the moment — he said — 

" Yes, if you please, I will see her." 

» Very good, very good," Miss Sibson answered slowly. 
8ho had not been blind to the momentety hesitation. ** Then 
I will send her to you to make her apologies. Only be kind 
enough to remember that she does not know that you have 
seen that slip of paper." 

He assented, and with a good-natured nod Miss Sibson rose 
and went heavily fr^m the room. Not for nothing was she 
held in Bristol a woman of sagacity beyond the ordinary, 
whose game of whis: it was a pleasure to watch ; nor without 
reason nad that attorney of character, of whom we have heard, 
chosen her in cuitodiam pu»lla. 

Yangban waited, and, to be ftank, his heart beat more 
qoickly than usual. He knew that he was doing a ioolidi 
thing, though he had refused to commit himself ; and an nn- 
wortby thing, thongh Miss Sibson, for her own reasons, had 
winked at it. He knew that be had no right to see the girl if 
he did not mean her well ; and how conM he mean her well 
when he had no intention of marrying her 7 For, for a man 
with his career in prospect to marry a girl in her position — to 
say nothing of the stigma which donbtleas lay npon her 
birth — was a foil/ of which none but boys and old men were 
capable. 

He listened, ill t:l eas?, already repenting, ahready thinking 
that he had been a fool. The voices in the next room, reduced 
to a faint murmur by the closed doors, ceased. She was being 
told. She was being sent*to him. He coloured. Yes, he was. 
ashamed of himself. He rose and wert to the window, and 
wished that he had said " No " ; that he had taken himself off. 
What was he doing at this time of life — the most sane and 
best balanced time of life— in this girls' school ? It was un- 
worthy of him. 

Tlie door opened, and he forgot bis nnworthiness, he forgot 
all The abnormal. attraction, aUorement, charm, call it what 
yon will, which had overcome him when she turned her eyes 



■ I 

1\ 



QUEEN'S SQUARE ACADEMY 



97 
on I|jm on tho ooaoh overoanw him ajpin— and tenfold. Ha 
:thoiMpit tt«t it nnrt Ho in her eyes, gentle ak a dove'i. And 
tet ho did not know. He had not men her indoors before, and 
jcr ban gathered in a Itnot at the baclc of her head wm a 
Greek surprise to him ; while her blnshcs, the qaiv«.ing of her 
month, her figure slender bat full of graoo, and high-girdled 
after the mode of the day— "11, all were so perfect, so enticing, 
that he knew not where tho magic lay. 

But magic there was. And such magic that though he had 
prepared himself, and though the last thing in his thonghta 
' j^waf to insult her, ho forgot liimself. As she paused, her hand 
^^ still resting on the door, her face downcast and distressed, 
" Good G— d," he cried, "how boantlfnl yon are ! " 

And rho saw that he meant no insult, that the words burst 
. from hir spontaneously. But not the less for that was their 
ifl clrect on her. She turned white, her very heart seeming to 
T stop, she appeared to be about to swoon. While he, forgetting 
all but her shrinking beauty, devoured her with his eyes. 

Until he remembered himself. Then he turned from her 
to tho window, 

" Forgive ma 1 " he cried. " Forgive me I I did not know 
what I said. Ton came on me so suddenly, yon looked so 

beautiful " 

He stopped ; he could not go on. 

And si was trembling from head to foot ; but she made 
an effort to escape back to the commonplace. 

"I carae," she mnnnnred— it was clear that she hardly 
knew what she was saying— "Miss Sibson told me to come 
to say that I— I was sorry, sir, that I— I misjudged you 
yesterday." ' 

"Yesterday? Yesterday?" he cried, ahnost angrily. 
" Bah, it is an age since yesterday I " 

She could make no answer to that, though she knew well 
»hat he meant. If she answered him it was only by suffering 
Slim to gaze at her in an eloquent silence — a silence in wbi^ 
his eyes cried again and again, " How beautiful you are 1 " 
While her eyes, downcast, under trembling lashes, her heart 
beaten down, defenceless, cried only for " Quarter, quarter I " 
They were yards apart. The table, and on it Mus Sibson's 
squat workboz and a pile of longcloth, was between them. 
Miss Sibson herself could have desired nothing more proper. 
And yet— 



--i^^Ui. 



»• CHIPPINGE 

' Funwi'll, furowcll, mv fuUbloM iIiIrM ; 
Thv lord tt length It f word to jriild. 
Vftin, rain in cvory outword cmn ; 
Tbe fuo'i vilhin ami Iriuinplii tbero ! " 

It was nil over. In her ean would ring for ever lii» viords 
of worship— tlic cry of tha man to (he woman, " How bcnntifnl 
you are ? " Bho would thrill with plcoanre whon she thought 
of them, and bnm with aharae, and nevi r, never, never be the 
Biime again 1 And for him, with that cir forced from him, love 
had become present, palpable, real, ana the ide^ of marriage 
real also ; an idea to be withstood, to bo combated, to be 
treated as foolish, Byronic, impossible. But an idea which 
would not leave him any more than the image of her gentle 
bwnty, indelibly stamped on his brain, would leave him. Ho 
might miend some days or some weeks in doubt and wretched- 
ness. But from that moment the odds were against him, for 
he was yonng, and passion had never had her way with him— 
03 serionsljr against him as against th 3 ormy that with spies and 
traiten in its midst moves against an united foe. 

Not a word that was convtnani had passed between them, 
though so mnch had passed, when a heavy footstep crossed the 
fore-court, and stopped at the door. The knocker fell sharply 
twice, and recalled them to realities. 

" I— I must go," she faltered, wrestling herself from tho 
spell of his eyes. "I hav- said what I— I hope you under- 
stand, and— it is time I went." How her heart waa beating 1 
" Oh no, no I " ,0 

"Tes, Imustgol" 

Too htte ! A loud voice in the passage, a heavy step 

annonnoed a visitor. The door flew open, ond there entered, 

pnshmg the startled maid aside, the Honourable Bob Plixton 

at the height of his glory, loud, impudent, and unabashed. 

"Bnn to earth, my lad!" he cried boisteionsly. »Bun 

to earth! Run " ' 

He broke off, gaping, as his eyes feU upon poor Mary, who, 
m miking way for him, had in part hidden herself 'oehind the 
door. Hj whistled in great amazement, and " Hope I don't 
intrude," he continued. And he grinned ; while Yanghan 
looking blackest thunder at him, could find no words that 
were adequate. To think that this loud-voioed, confident fool 
the Don Giovanni of the regiment, had stumbled on his peari I 
" Well, well, well ! " the Honourable Bob resumed, wigting 



QUEEN'S SQUARE ACADEMY 



y-ar. "I didn't Cw li Lrm^HS' ""^ °' >^ 

Ills tone. "I am iSt wkh i„n pr ? "'""^' 'ternnoM in 
Mis. Smith." "™ '^°"°« "•"' yon. FI«ton. Good morning, 

jj^ ^Seo here, won't you in rodnco mo ?" cried the irrei««bl, 

I am obliged, gre^VSod to h.f ^^"^ "* Smith, that 
have dono^my UnL!'Ka«"iot^»3'°'' ' ' 
dr...idrt!b':l"rn"^[;i t-'ha^lS^ '<' >» 

nothingVnUtr'^hdtw'!!;^. '"Srilr- ''You know 

m own errand, and cominffback ToncSff !^' .^J °''* 
fancied yon'd «,me little gS^e on h^d »^'" ^ '^-'""' "«»' ^ 
"Nothing of the kind 1 " 

brigh??l°?^S^'«Ml°r"''^«^' Honour 
not on the tra^of thif «& flilf f*?" ^ '^^' ^'"«'"«. yo"'« 

an3XXL'5^'"??^on;t'a*S,iste'»L^?'' --'" "e 

Flixton winked. "Heard ?h»tl!f She's a good girf." 

"more than once From fnv «L^^°'!'u°'y '»^'" ""^ «id, 

chance of that'' ""^ grandmother. I'U take my 

^he other hand. hi. fX'S^ltt'K l^f SnnS! 



ice CHIPPINGE 

»nd ho WH far from prepuvd to annonnco off-hand that he 
wai KoiDB to marry the boantf. So, "No, you will not, 
Flixton," he uid. "Let it go I Do yon hear? The fact 
if," ho oontinned, in lomo embarraHment, ■* I'm in a aort 
of fldnciary relation to the yonng lady, and— and I am not 
goinir to lee her played with. That'i the fact." 

" Fiduciary relation ? " the Honourable liob retorted, in 
perplexity. " What the dcnoe is that ? Never heard of it I 
D'yon mean, man, that you are— eh ? — related to her ? Of 
conno, if lo " 

" No. I am not related to her." 

«Tli •• 

" Bu. Q not going to ace her made a fool of, that's flat t " 

An idea struck the Honourable Rob. He stared. "See 
here," he said -n a tone of ■nisgiving, " you ain't — yon ain't 
thinking of martying her ? " 

Vaughan's cheeks burned. " May be, and may be not," 
ho said curtly. " Either way, it i: my business I " 

" But surely you're not ? Man alive I " 

" It is my business, I say 1 " ' 

" Of course, of course, if it is as bad as that," Flixton 
auKwerod with a grin. " But — hope I don't intrude, Yanshan, 
bu'. ain't yon making a bit of a fool of yourself 7 WhatUI old 
Vermnrden say, eh ? " 

" "rhat's my business I " Yaughan answered haughtily. 

"Just so, just so; and quite enough for me. All I say 
is, if you are not in earnest yonnelf, don't play the dog in 
the m'.oger I " 



CHAPTER XI 

1)0» OIOVAWI FLIZTON 

^nTihTsJ'l^jrM.f^J'^f^ ""• '"','«*'' <" April 
political w^d It il^Lhl ^.^.u' "'"' '"""«'" in '^e 

were incr .bljr, nay, were bitterly snrpriiedwhen thpT u. 

which thK^' C'wm'' rr,"' '^.^ ""}»(?« Btt^eti^n 
which nni, JlJ?k '?• ™ ""^ •Po'ten after a fashion 

rWh^"" t'Z""' *•"' "« Ae1t«c'X olW 
fn, . V^ J °.** ,'^'' <»"'«i" to waif,, idle and dimiDated 
for a dead mn'B .hoes, but in the pride of a mM S he 

lOI 



loa CHIPPINGE 

believed to bo tlic master of his passions bad set his face 
towards the high prizes of the senate and the foram. He, 
who if he could not be Foi, would be Erskine. Who would 
be anything, in a word, except the empty-headed man of 
pleasure, or the plain dullard satisfied to sit in a comer with 
a little. 

He, who had planned such a future, now found himself 
on the brink — ay, on the very point — of committing as foolish 
an act as the most thoughtless could commit. He was dream- 
ing of marrying a girl below him in station, still farther below 
him in birth, whom he had only known three days, whom he 
had only seen three times I And all because she had beautiful 
eyes, and looked at him— Heavens, how she had looked at him I 
He went hot as he pictired her with her melting eyes, 
hsBging towa s him a little as the ivy inclines to the oak. 
Ana then he i. aed cold. And cold, he considered what he 
was going to do I 

Of course he was not going to marry her. 
No doubt he had said to her more than he should have 
said. But his honour was not engaged. The girl was not the 
worae for him ; even if that which he had rrad in her eyes 
was real, she wonld get over it as quickly as he would. But 
marry her, give way to an evanescent feeling, let himself be 
swayed by a fancy at which he would laugh a year later — no ! 
He was not so weak. He had not only his career to consider, 
but the family honours which would be his one day. What 
wonld old Vermuyden say if he impaled a baton sinister with 
the i..mily arms, added a Smith to tne family alliances, married 
the nameless, penniless teaclier in a girls' school ? 

No, of course, he was not going to many her. What he 
bad said to the Honourable Bob, ne had said to shield her 
from a Don Juan. He had not meant it. He would go for 
a long walk and pnt the notion and the girl out of his head, 
and come back cured of his folly, and make a meny night of 
it with the old set. And to-morrow — no, the morrow was 
Sunday— on Monday he wonld return to London and to all 
the chances which the changing political situation must open 
to an ambitious man. He regretted that he had not taken 
the Chancellor's hint and sought a seat in the House. 

But a solitary ramble in the valley of the Avon, which was 
hundredfold more bsautifal in those days than in these, 
because less spoiled by the hand of man ; a ramble by the 



DON GIOVANNI FLIXTON 



i„ 1 ■"." ""t*" ^ ""soled down or loat 
In bigh ambition or n thirst for g.?atnll •' 

luto a moody sUence which his w ^t^". n:^'-,"^ ""'' •"" ''" 

posed that thev shonlcf a^II^ fnwi. a ^' ^^ ^''^"^n PW- 

qaenoes than a broken head or two C p„? "Tp °°'^- 
set his foot on the propo^ ^°' ^"'°°«' B™«ton 

8eni;7?fflS-'5"dttri:t"'td''T-^''" ^i* •"> ^''■'l- "I-™ 
Do you think that th^M-'n,?.--'" ""' ^^« ''• FJixtonl" 

remo^^r '''''""''• '' ^^ -"« bad as thatl" Hi.ton 

but they grinned behtarhta bfok 'nntrr^ ;L" ^ ™°'^; 
ridicule, ho grew anerv On nr^inli °°'''> . '"''f conscious of 

have b^n tlelZflhen^^^^B^FhTf^Z ^'^''"''7°^^ 
member that the Colonel" """^ ~ 



the subject 



9 guest, and he sought to torn 



104 



CHIPPINGE 



"Come, come 1 " he cried, Lammering the table and posh- 
ing the bottle. " Let the Oolonel alone. For Heaven's sake 
shelve the cnrsed Bill I I'm sick of it 1 It's the death of all 
fnn and jollity. I'll give von a sentiment. 'The Fair when 
they are Kind, and the Kind when they are Fair.' Fill nn I 
Fill up all, and drink it I" 

They echoed the toast in various tones, sober or fnddled. 
For some began to grow excited. A glass was shattered and 
flung noisily into the fire. A new one was called for, also 
noisily. 

"Now, Bill," Flixton continued to his righthand neigh- 
bour, " it's your turn ! Give us something spicy I " And he 
hammered the table. " Captain Codrington's sentiment." 

"Let's have a minute I pleaded the gen' 'iman assailed. 

" Not a minute," boisterously. " See, the table's ^raiting 
for you I Captain Codrington's sentiment I " 

Men of small genius kept a written list, and committed 
some lines to memory before dinger. The Captain was one 
of these. Bnt the c&U on him was sudden, and he sought, 
with an agonised mind, for a sentiment which might seem 
novel. At last, with a sigh of relief, " Maids and Mmuses ! " 
he cried. 

"Ay, ay. Maids and Missuses I" the Honourable Bob 
echoed, raising his glass. "And especially," he whispered, 
calling his neighbonr's attention to Yaughan by a shove, 
"School-missuses! School-missuses, my lad I Here, Vaughan," 
he continued aloud, "yon must drink this, and no heeltaps ! " 

Yaughan canght his name and awoke from a reverie. 
" Very good," he said, raising his glass. " What is it ? " 

" Maids and Missuses 1 " the Honourable Bob replied, with 
a wink at his neighbour. And then, incited by the fumes of 
the wine he had taken, he rose to his feet and raised his glass. 
" Gentlemen," he said, " gentlemen 1 " 

" Silence I " they cried. " Silence for Bob's speech." 

" Gentlemen," he resumed, a spark of malice in his eyes, 
" I've a piece of news to give you 1 It's news that— that's' 
been mighty slyly kept by a gentleman here present. Devilish 
close he's kept it, I'll say that for him I But he's a neat baud 
that can bamboozle Bob Flixton, and I've run him to earth, 
ran him to earth this morning, and got it out of him." 

" Hear I Hear I Bob 1 Go on, Bob ! What is it ? " from 
the company. 



DON GIOVANNI FLIXTON 105 

"You are going to hear, my Trojans I And no flam! 
Oentlemen, charge your glasseg I I've the honour to inform 
yon that onr old friend and tip-topper, Arthur Vaaghan, 
oiherwwe the Counsellor, has got himself regnUrly put up, 
knocked down, and sold to as pretty a piece of the feminine 
J8 yon U see in a twelvemonth ! Prettiest in Bristol, 'pon 
honour, with feeling, " be the other who she may I Begntor 

'^ , ;., *"^ '" 'frcsistibly comic accents, with his lead 

and glass alike titled, he trolled— 

" ' There flret 'or tijee my puaion grew, 
Sweet, sweet Matilda Poltingen ; 
Thou waat the daoghtor of my tii- 
-tor, law pr-f Bsorat the U- 
-nivt. ityofGiitUngon! 
•niTeraity of Gottingen I ' 

Don't laugh, gentlemen 1 It's so I He's entered on the way- 
bill, booked through to matrimony, and"— the Honourable 
Bob was nndoubtedly a litUe Upsy— "and it only remains 
for usto give him a good send-off. So charge your glasses, 

Brereton Uid his hand on his arm. He was sober, and he 
did not like the look of Vanghan's disgusted face. "One 
moment, Flixton," he said, " is this true, Mr. Vaughan ? " 

Vaughan's brow was as black as thunder. He had never 
dreamt that, dmnk or sober, Flixton would be gnilty of such 
a breach of confidence. He hesitated. Then, " No I '' he said 

"It's not true?" Codrington struck in. "You are not 
going to be married, old chap ? " 

" No 1" 

"But, man," Flixton hiccoughed, "you U me so— ov 
something hke it— only this morning." 

" Yon either misunderstood me," Vaughan answered, in a 
tone so distinct as to be menacing. " Or, if you prefer it I've 
changed my miud. In either case it is my business I And 
I'll trouble you to leave it alone 1 " 

" Oh, if you put it— that way, old chap ? " 

" I do put it that way 1 " 

'; And any way," Brereton interposed hurriedly, " this is 
no time for marrying ! I've told you boys before, and I tell 
yon ngam " 

And he plunged into a fresh argument on the old point. 



io6 



CHIPPINGE 



Two or three joined igsne, grinning. Vaughan, as Boon as 
attention wag diverted from him, slipped away. 

lie was horribly disgnsted, and sank very low in his own 
eyes. He loathed what he had done. He had not, indeed, 
been false to the girl, for he had given her no promisa He 
had not denied her, for her name had not been mentioned. 
He had not gone back on his resolntion, for he had never 
formed one seriously. Yet in a degree he had done all these 
things. He had played a shabby part by himself and by the 
girl. He had been meanly ashamed of her. And though his 
conduct i.'ad followed the lines which ho had marked out, he 
hoped that he might never again feel so unhappy, or so poor 
a thing, as he felt as he walked the streets and cursed his 
discretion. 

Discretion I Cowardice was the right name for it. For he 
knew now that he loved the girl ; yet because she, the most 
beautiful, pure, and gentle creature on whom his eyes had ever 
rested, was called Mary Smith, and taught in a school, he 
disavowed her. 

_ He did not know that he was sufFering what a man, whose 
mmd has so far governed his heart, must suffer when the latter 
rebels. In planning his life he had ignored his heart ; now he 
innst pay the penalty. He went to bed at last, but not to 
sleep. Instead he lived the scene over and over again, now 
wondering what he ought to have done ; now brooding on 
what Flizton most think of him ; now on what she, whose 
nature, he was sure, was as perfect as her face, would think 
of him, if she knew. How she would despise him 1 

The next day was Sunday, and he spent it, in accordance 
with a previous promise, with Brereton, at his pleasant home 
at Newcburch, a mile from the city. Though the most recent 
of his Bristol acquaintances, Brereton was the most congenial ; 
and a dozen times Vaughan was on the point of conMing his 
trouble to him. He was deterred by the melancholy cast of 
Brereton'g character, which gave promise of no decisive advice. 
And early in the evening he took leave of bis host and strolled 
towards the Downs, balancing I would against Iicill not; now 
facing the bleak of a prudent decision, now thrilling with 
foolish rapture, as he pondered another event. Lord Eldon 
had married young and with as little prudence ; it had not 
impeded his rise, nor Erskine's. Doubtless Sir Lobert Ver- 
muyden would say that he had disgraced himself j but he 



DON GIOVANNI FLIXTON 



107 



cared little for that. What he had to combat was the more 
personal pride of the man who, holding himself a little wiser 
than his follows, cannot bear to do a thing that in the eyes 
of the foolish may set him below them 1 

Of course he came to no decision ; thongh he wandered on 
Brandon Hill nntil the Float at his feet ceased to mirror the 
liphU, and Bristol lay dark below him. And Monday found 
him still hesitating. Thrice he started to take his place on the 
coach, /'jid thrice he turned back, hating himself for his 
weakness. If he conld not overcome a foolish fancy, how 
could he hope to scale the heights of the 'Western Circuit, or 
hurl Coleridge and FoUett from their pride of place ? Or, still 
harder task, how wonld he dare to confront in the House the 
cold ey° of Croker or of Gonlbnm ? No, he conld not hope to 
do eitliL'i. He had been wrong in his estimate of himself. 
He was a poor creature, unable to hold his own amongst his 
fellows, impotent to guide his own life 1 

He was still contesting the matter when, a little before 
noon, he espied Flixton in the act of threading his way through 
the busy crowd of Broad Street. The Honourable Bob was 
wearing hessians, and a high-collared green riding-coat, with 
an orange vest and a soft many-folded cravat. In fine, he was 
so smart that suspicion entered Yangbin's head, and on its 
heels — ^jealousy. 

In a twinkling he was on Fliiton's track Broad Street, 
the heart of Bristol, was thronged, for Hart Davie's withdrawal 
was in the air and an election crowd was abroad. Newsboys 
with their sheets, tipsy ward-leadera, and gossiping merchants 
jostled one another. The bean's green coat, however, shone 
conspicnons. 

" Gloriona was his ooorae. 
And long the track of light he left behind him I " 

and before Vaughan had asked himself if he were justified in 
following, pursued and pnrsner were over Bristol Bridge, and 
making, by way of the Welsh Back— a maze of coal-hoys and 
dangling cranes— for Queen's Square. 

Vaughan doubted no long'.r, weighed the propiiety of his 
course no longer. For a cool-headed man of the world, who 
asked nothing better than to master a silly fancy, he was 
foolishly perturbed. He made "" with a grim face; but a 
dray loading at a Newport coal-)- 'rew ac- iss his path, and 



loS 



CHIPPINGE 



Flixton WM movuiK under the pleasant elma and amid the 
ptonm that loitered np and down the snnlit Square, before 
VauRhMi came withm hail, and called him by name. 

hashed'**" '°™**^ "'*°' "** '^^° '' ^""' ""^ g"nned— nothing 

ij ",^«V'" ?* 8*'^. tipping Wb hat a little to one side, "well, 
old chap I Are tou let out of school too ? " 

Vai^han had discovered Mary Smith and her little troop 
mider the trees m the farthest comer. But he tried to smile- 
and did so, a little awir. 

"This is not fair play, Flixton," he said. 

"That 18 just what I think it is," the Honourable Bob 
answered cheerfully. "Eh, old chap? Neat trick of youre 
the other day, but not neat enough ! Thought to bamlioozle 
me and win a clear field I Neat I But no go, I found you 
out, and now it is my turn. That's what I adl fair play." 

Look here, nuton," Vaughan replied-he was fast losing 
lus composure— "I'm not going to have it. That's plain." 

The Honourable Bob stared. " Oh I " he answer^. " Let's 

irfter^" ""* '"""''" '^''* ^°" ^°'"^ *° ""^^ ""^ «"^ 

"I've told yon " 

"Oh, you've told me, yes, and you've told mo, no. The 
question is, which is it ? " 

Vaughan controlled himself. Ho could see Mary out of 
the corner of his eye, and knew that she had not taken the 
alarm as yet. But the least violence might attract her at- 
tention. 

^^^" Whichever it be," he said firmly, "is no business of 

" If yon claim the girl " 

g^j,'^,? "o* ciaim ber, Plixton. I have told you that. 

" But you mean to play the dog in the manger ? " 

do her a'Sy ha™"^'" ^'"'^'""' "^^'''"^ '^"'^^' " *^ y"" •'""'^ 
Flixton hesitated. Secretly he hold Vaughan in respt^t, 
and he would have postponed his visit to Queen's Square^ad 
he foreseen that that gentleman would detect him. But to 
retreat now was another matter. The duel was still in voeue ■ 
bwely twoyeare before the Prime Minister had gone out with 
a brother peer m Battersea Fields ; barely twenty years before 



nON GIOVANNI FLIXTON ,09 

lie" c^ouW^nof thlt? ^ ■*"' """"her on Wimbledon Common. 

" I do •^™° '" '^ '^ ""'■ ^° y°" ' " •"* '^'°^'^- 
"Then come Md bcc," he returned flippantly. " I'm eoinir 
I i,Pcf"' ""' ""-• '°"°« '■«•? "O" T J^s not mu'Z! 

towarSffll* '""""d on his heel and strolled across the turf 
towards the gronp of which Mary was the centre 

inform^ ? fK"""""^ "'*"' "«''' '«'''» = »°d when Mary Smith 
Si'bSore hfm " """■' '''' '"^ "' ^"^'""'^ '''""M^^. ""d 

pud^t.'a*;"drwrKfto'i^!'" >^-' '-- »' - 

you ^mfrntt: f am" j'urel""^ "^ •■"' ''^'^ '^^'-*' " '~ 

sn«I°"fn,^" ^"*'"*^- H"'" ^'^' ""'J l^foK '!>e girl could 
' ^^TM. j^ {""^ ",.\^°« T"«' of manners- ^ 
This gentleman," he saiS, "wishes to see 

' Miss Sibson 1 " 7aughan exclaimed. 
»h«f I • I"" ^^ S^^'OS nP into the men's faces with 
ami?h tif "f^ ?""'''? °^ childh^. Fortnm^te y th^Marv 
Sm h ^Jir*^ ^"°"f™°* '*'<' '"o ™« no longer ^1 Ma^ 
th^^I™ w '^'^^ ' "Pl^^noe had stricken with S 
three days before. For one thing she knew Miss sCTh 
better, and feared her less. For another. hTr fliif g^moiTer 
-the gleam of whose gifts never failed to lea^ a how of 
change, a prosi«rt of something other than the plodW 
endless round-had shown a fresh sign. And l^t Sot I^' 

S^nlJ^^r), -^"^ '^^ * ,^«'*=« Beautiful, and Queen™ 
enSJr "f ??■"?. «»k« and ordered elms, kto m 
enchanted forest, had visited her. True, Vanghan had left 
L .t^l^'^' "u"^' ^"^ "^"ning cheeks andltmheThirt 
Z}^ "^i .^'^'"J. ^"' ^« ^ '"i'l wh"' she would ne^e^ 
forpt, and though he had left her doubting, he had left her 

iJn i'n ^J"^ '^ "'^^'"■y "''o fonnd herSlf add^ by 
rjh^ad"TolTitn?e.'*^ '''^''' '■"" '''«'^'"° "^-^S 



no CHIPPINGE 

Still she was aitoniihed br the manner in vhich they 
accosted her ; and she (bowed tnia, modestly. 

" If yon wiah to lee Hiw Sibson," ahe said— initinctircly 
eho looked at Vaiigban'a companion—" I will send for her." 

And she was turning, with compRrativo ease, to despatch 
one of the children on the errand, when the Honoarable Bob 
interposed. 

" Bnt we don't want Miss Sibson— now," ho said. " A 
man may change bis mind as well as a woman I Eb, old 
chap ? " tnming to his friend with aimnlated good-hnmonr. 
" I'm snre yon will say so. Miss Smith." 

She wondered what their odd manner to one another 
meant. And, to add to her dignity, she laid her hand on the 
shonlder of one of her chiu-ges and drew her closer. 

"Moreover, I'm anre," Fliiton continned — for Vaughan, 
after that one ontbnnt, stood snlkily silent—" I'm sure Mr. 
Vaughan will agree with me— " 

"I?" 

"Oh yes, he will, Miss Smith, became he is the most 
changeable of men himself I A weathercock, upon my 
honour 1 " And he pointed to the tower of St. Mary, which, 
from the high ground of Bedcliffe Parade on the farther side 
of the water, looks down on the Square. " Never of the same 
mind two days together I " 

Taugban snubbed him aavagely. "Be good enough to 
leave me out I " he said. 

" There I " the Honourable Bob answered, throwing him- 
self into an attitude, " he wants to stop my month t Bnt I'm 
not to be stopped. Of all men he's the least right to say that 
I mustn't change my mind. Why, if yonll believe me, Miss 
Smith, no farther baick than Saturday morning he was all for 
being married I 'Pon honour ! Went away from here talk- 
ing of nothing else I In the evening he was just as dead 
the other way 1 Nothing was farther from his tbougbta. 
Shuddered at the very idea I Come, old chap, don't look 
fierce!" And he grinned at Vaughan. "Ton can't deny it 1" 

Vanghan could have struck him ; the trick was so neat 
and so malicious. Fortunately a man who had approached 
them touched Vaughan's elbow at the critical moment, and 
diverted bis wrath. 

" Express for yon, sir," he said. " Come by chaise, been 
looking for you everywhere, sir ! " 



DON GIOVANNI FLIXTON ,„ 

included lK,th''gentlemen ^ '""' "'^'"^'*"* '^'^ '^'' 

he tamed npon Flixto ^ °°' "' **"•«"• ">«•» 

yourcondnct-l" "^ ^ '™"'''* """^ ^o'' I wnaidei 

tho';^r.Sd!"^r;stsie,r^,r '^Ttnt'-Uo^'*' «^ 

?^: ^°Vf'^ '°'<'*^«- ^' did ySn e^r^r/^t 
1 was going to play np to yon ? " ^^ ■'^"*' 

" I expected at least " 

carrying in hi, oblivion, hand the letter/hiSTh^b^n givt' 



Ill CHIPPINGE 

liim. Once he hultod, baU-mindcd to return to MiM Sitmn't 
and to see Ha^ and explain. He took, indeed, Rome ttcpa in 
the backward direction. Bnt be reflected that if he went he 
most apeak, and plninly. And, angry ai ho was, fnrioaily in 
love ailio was, was ho prepared to speak ? 

He was not prepared. And while bo stood doubting 
between that ctcnml would and would not, his eyes fell on the 
letter in his hand. 



CHAPTER XII 

A BOTTBK BOBOUOH 

on the ridge and clCke to th^^P^'";'"?? '*''»'• Bnilt 
'tone-tile/hoi^Cl °fe<L«r 0^^.^°^ this eminence, the 
of the WUtohiTMrtm,? ^^L°'*' '^* 8*""6 nndnlationg 

cloBely-at (he date n/-WK ■'.'"'"; ^o' '''e^'ed mow 

">«tcrownSthThHI r„iT^*^°°"- ^ '''^ Mitred Abbey 

on the doorwav nt f^TT^' .,J"' stranger whose eye fell 

wondering aw BnWMmf/*'?^u'^"' "'"' » «e"'e of 
UK awe. ijnt let him tnrn hig back on these buildings. 



"4 



CHIPPINGE 



and bit ere met, in gnu-grown itreet ud Mnlid alley, a lower 
depth. Everywhere were things once flne. inak to bj* ««• I 
old >tone maniioni converted into teucmcnts ; the Mild booMt 
of mediisval bnrgbcn into ciwy tavemi ; fretted doiiten into 
pigHiei and hovel* ; a Gothic arch propped the aaggiiig flank 
of a timWcd aUblo. Or if anything of the beauty of a build- 
ing lurvived, it wa« maikcd by climbiDg pentbomo ; or, like 
the WhiU) Lion, the old inn which had been the Abbot's gneit- 
honie, it was attend out of all likencn to its former self. For 
tUu England of '81, groes and matter-of-fact, vm not awnke 
to the value of those relics of a noble past which gcnciations 
of intolerance had hurried to decay. 

Doubtless in this mooldering, dostv thell was snog, warm 
living. Georgian comfort bad outlived the wig and the Uced 
coat, and though the influence of the Church was at its lowest 
ebb, and rnora^ were not much higher, inns were plenty and 
flourished, and in tho panelled parlours of the White Lion or 
the Heart and Hand was much gtjod eating, followed by deep 
drinking. The London road no longer passed through the 
town ; the great fair had fallen into disuse. But the cloth 
trade, by which Chippinge had once thriven, had been revived, 
and the town was not quite fallen. Still, of all its former 
glories, it retained but one intact. It rttumed two members 
to Parliament. That which Birmingham and ShelHeld bad 
not, this little borough of eighteen hundred souls enjoyed. 
Fallen in all other points, it retained, or rather iU High 
Steirard, Sir Robert Vermuyden, retained, the right of relum- 
ing, by the votes of its alderman^nd twelve capital burgetses, 
two members to the Commons' House. 

And Sir Robert could not by any stretch of fancy bring 
himself to believe that the town would willingly part with the 
privilege. Why should it strip itself ? he argued. It enjoyed 
the honour vicariously indeed. But did he not year by year pay 
the alderman and eight of the capital burgesses thirty pounds 
apiece for their interest, a sum which quiddy filtered through 
their pockets and enriched the town, besides taking several of 
the voters off the rates ? Did he not also at election times 
set the taps running and distribute a moderate largesse among 
the commonalty, and— and in fact do everything which it 
behoved a liberal and enlightened patron to do ? Nay, hod 
be not, since his accession, raised the status of the voters, long 
and vulgarly knowu as "The Cripples," so that they, who in 



A ROrrEN BOROUGl „, 

rcip«ctal.le MwUon ? ' " '*^ ""• '^^ "n*" of 

the aoni of inen wW hk faZ, ill '*"J*'u«»°'«<'> »' 
mort unlikely pwp7erBJo£i ^ h^?^ P"^-""" »' "»« 
Pli«t grew ir\en ^o W pa^np" wUb ^e°oM°«'"^* 
for more yean than thev «mll «.^Jil: ""' °'° 'J"**"" 
Otbew, who had aUtheir ifvof SL.T*"??,' ?'S'' "^»«- 
ruled the roost, SlSthTt ^^ ^^°J>^« taferion 

maaagementandcouKhoDeto.i^hi''"?" ^' "«' "^ 
after the fashion of Dyw the ^t^L^ ^^ ' *''^^ '*'^°1'^. 

Henty of the tdTh:l"1'eJ^\^„^„-X»'^^^ 

borough to l» lopl ' ^'''*'* '""•^'J' believed hi. 

or tteSV?Sd'i'"2:^Lri^'"„«tK^^^^^ ''^' •f.''"' 
It was customary for X V„£n j ?^* Monday m May. 

candidate, on thj CWpMnhTn^^'J? .i""*"?' '^ ."'««' "« 
dinner hour, and to ^t?^ *f^ '^'" "° •""" "^'ore the 



ii6 



CHIPPINGE 



a home-jesb. The crowd woald follow Ihein jeering and 
laagliing, and there would be some poshing, and a drunken 
man or two would fall. But all had passed in good humour ; 
the taps had been mnning in one interest, the ale was Sir 
Bobert s, and the crowd envied while thej laughed. 

White, as he stood on the bridge reviewing the first-comem, 
wished he might have no worse to expect to-day. But he did 
not hope as mnch. The town was crowded, and the streets 
down tu the bridge were so cumbered with moving groups that 
it was plain the procession would have to pnsh its way. For 
certain, too, many of the people did not belong to CbippiDgc. 
With the townsfolk White knew he could deal. He did not 
believe that there was a Chippinge man who, eye to eye witu 
him, would cast a stone. But here were yokels from Caina 
and Bowood, who knew not Sir Robert ; with Bristol lambs 
iind men as dangerous, and not a few Radicals from a distance, 
rabid with zeal and overflowing with promises. Made up of 
such elements the crowd hooted from time to time, and there 
was a threat in the sonnd that filled, White with misgiviugs. 

Nor was this the worst. The cloth factory stood close 
to the bridge. The procession must pass it. And the hands 
employed in it, hostile to a man, were gathered before the 
doorway, in their aprons and paper caps, waiting to give the 
show a reception. They had mnch to say already, their jeers 
and taunts filling the air ; but White had a shrewd suspicion 
that they had worse missiles in their pockets. 

Still, ho had secured the attendance of a score of sturdy 
fellows, sons of Sir Robert's farmers, and these, with a pro- 
portion of the tagrag and bobtail of the town, gave a fairly 
solid aspect to his party. Nor was the jeering all on one side, 
though that deep and unpleasant groaning which now and 
ogain rolled down the street was wholly Whiggish. 

Alas, it was when the agent came to analyse his men that 
he had most need of the smile that deceives. Trne, the rector 
was there and the curate of Eastport, and the clerk and the 
sexton — the two last-named were voters. And there were also 
four or five squires arrayed in support of the gentlemanly 
interest, and as many young bucks come to see the fua Then 
there were three other voters : the alderman, who was a small 
grocer, and Annibal the basket-maker — these two were stalwarts 
— and Dewell the barber, also staunch, but a timid man. But 
where was Dyas, Sir Robert's burliest supporter in old days ? 



A ROTTEN BOROUGH „, 

of hocnssiDB him n^n ^i ir ' ^^''■'"''' "'" " '""* believed, 

made them sfx The Rnt'^ "'T °P .^»'" ""d "^a" -""l 

hand^MTL^'hS- u " P?" ^'"«Ker. Bnt. on the other 
exDreL to TW.t^i 1."°'^.'*''*""'? °° "M^er had sent an 

Bound rnkand?)!!"^ "l! ""'"' '^'s''«^ "P "^e "'^eet. The 
th^ tr ofTheSe"'' ^""^ "^ " "?««''- --"^ """"y over 

conntj'ilten." "'^ "^'^ «^°''^ ^^'^y- °- "^ '"e 

risin's^n hii^^'/T ?™5S!' "'• I f'»°'=y. 'be agent replied, 
TcolDle of h"^J''J°°''\ Then with his eye he whipK 
the enemy! '""'"«'«'"'y» '''O '^°>ed inclined to stray to^rardS 

••y;'caKo'n'^onT^„.'=?,tS:T^;^ ••" ^''•««' 

agent he S^n™n nnC .^,''"«.''°»''««d. Like a gW election 
SretodothT^r^nV p'°^ *"' '=°"fidence. '"Wpe've enongh 



,M 



J 



ii8 



CHIPPINGE 



! 



bless yon, White continued, with a brow of bra«, " if he 
conld not vote for Sir Hubert ? " 

" Seven to five." 

"Seven to four, sir." 

"But Dyas, I hear, the d d rogue, will vote against 

yon?" ^ 

White winked. " Bad," he said crypti(ally, " but not as 
bad as that." 

" Oh I oh 1 " quoth the other, nodding, " I see." Aud 
then, glancing at the gang before the cloth works, whose 
taunts and cries of " Flunkies I " and " Sell your birthriglit, 
will ^on ? were constant and vicious, " You've no fear there'll 
be violence, White ? " he asked. 

"Lord, no, sir." White answered; "yon know what 
election rows are— all bark and no bite ! " 

"StUl I hear that at Bath, where I'm told Lord Brecknock 
stands a poor chance, they are afraid of a riot." 

"^y, ay, sir," White answered indifferently, "this isn't 

"No, indeed," the rector struck in, in pompous tones. " I 
should hke to see anything of that kind here ! They would 
soon, he continued with an air, "find that I am not on the 
commission of the peace for nothing I I shall make, and I am 
sure yon will make," he went on, turning to his brother 
justice, "very short work of them! I should like to see 
anything of that kind tried here I " 

White nodded, and in his heart thought that his reverence 
WM likely to have his wish gratified. However, no more was 
said, for the approach of the Stapylton carriages, w;th their 
postillions, outriders, and favours, was signalled by persons 
who had been placed to watch for them, and the party on the 
bridge, falhne into violent commotion, raised their flags and 
banners and hastened to form an escort on either side of the 
roadway. As the gaily-decked carriages halted on the crest of 
tue bridge, loud greetings were exchanged. The five voters 
took up a position of honour, seats in the carriages were found 
for three or four of the more important gentry, and seven 
or eigit others got to horse. Meanwhile, the smaller folk, 
who thought they had a claim to the recognition of the candi- 
dates, were gratified, and stood back blushing, or being dis- 
appointed stood back glowering ; this amid confusion and 
cheenng on the bndge, and jeers on the part of the cloth 



A ROTTEN BOROUGH 



orwhioh''t'he di"„1^ ZZ Zi^ "'of'' ''"' l^nd of C 

the gentleman?, rS>^t'teZ\7'^,rlr'^ »' ^'■" - 
pot under way, ar i led bv a S,!,"-'^' "'^ Procession 

^^l^Z^ ^£nSS-''"^-S 

7Hp-sr,e*f^^-fi£:e5^ 

M'^o^.o^^r^h^^^^^^^^^^^ and nnder its speU 
from the polling day, and Ann" at lot ? *°^ "^ ''"'• ^"^ 
had passed. No one wasM 7nVtl^ "^'^ "■« l^^es 
onward more or less trhmoSv J-* '^'2?S'» '""''ed 
was in the first, and wh^e Zr^ h7'i ^'J^' ^athe". who 
tUther in search of frieKS f^'' Tri"^ ^^^^' "^^ 
Cooke, who did not forget tUt h ' ^ ^ '^"'- S"' Mr. 
five hundred ponnds for h s s^t an, , ' T"? *'"<» '''o°«nd 
a soft one, scarcely deigned ^ Ci p ^'" *>"" '* "•"'"W be 
alvanc^J into the town the ctem^nrAf f^' "^ ""> procession 
the narrow High Strwt „n.i ^^"^ °{ '^e crowd which lined 
The Bill I •• drfwnK n?™ Tff"'"'"^ "'""'ted " The BHl! 
and left no dourofthe'^S fX/ «'' «°"«^'^ «-! 

thedPSngMhthnX^/?^'''?.^ ""^ '•''•««'>?. 
the hubbub. And onc^ TZi }v J*''^'"'? l^ravely abow 

cutting the proce^1oS°^J/Xtt"'*""^ came iear to 

i>P? the bn^4Lt"\?d^a"^ll"'?. '""^ "^ '^'"' before 

their meaning oT^te motfve'^rVe r'"''' '""7 nnde«tood 
beat out something whicn^^'^tt?^- 4^1^^^^ 



i| J ' 



'J, v\ 



s 



"o CHIPPINGE 

and an unseen hand raising a large dead rat on a pole, waved 
it before the butcher's windows. 

The effect was surprising— to old-fashioned folk. In a 
twinkling, with a shout of " Down with the Borongh-mongcra I " 
a gang of white-aproned clothmcn rushed the rear of the pro- 
cession, drove it in upon the main body, and amid screams 
and uproar forced the colnmn out of the narrow street into the 
space before the Abbey. Fortunately the White Lion, which 
faced the Abbey, stood only a score of paces to the left of the 
Cross, and the carriages were able to reach it ; but in disorder, 
^reesei on by such a fighting, swaying, shouting crowd as 
/hippinge had not seen for many a year. 

It was no time to stand on dignity. The. candidates 
tumbled out as best they could, their best supporters followed, 
and while half a dozen single combats proceeded at their 
elbows, they hastened across the pavement into the house. 
The rector alone disdained to flee. On the threshold of the 
inn he turned and raised his hat above his head. 

" Order I " he cried, in his sonorous bass. " Order I Do 
yon hear me I " 

But "Yah I Borough-monger I " the rabble answered, and 
before he could wink a young farmer was hurled against him, 
and a whip, of which a postillion had just been despoiled, 
whizzed past bis head.. He, too, turned tail at that, with his 
face a shado paler than usual j and with his retreat resistance 
ceased. The carriages were hustled into the yard, and there 
the greater part of the procession also took refuge. A few, 
sad to say, sneaked off and got rid of their badges, and a few 
more escaped through a neighbouring alley. No one was much 
hurt ; a few black eyes were the worst of the mischief, nor 
could it be said that any vindictive feeling was shown. But 
the town was swept clear, and the victory of the Radicals was 
complete. Left in possession of the open space before the 
Abbay, they paraded for some time under the windows of the 
White Lion, waving a captured flag, and cheering and groaning 
by turns. 

Meantime, in the hall of the inn tlie grandees were smooth- 
ing their rnflled plumes, in a state of mind in which it was 
hard to say whether indignation or astonishment had brger 
place. Oaths flew thick as hjil, unrebnked by the Church, 
the most outspoken, perhaps, being the landlord, who met them 
with a pale face. 



A ROTTEN BOROUGH „, 

what sort of thing he hag let UB inter '"'"'■ """^ ^^-^ "^ 

such is these— 1 - " 't w to be earned by methods 

"oHTlf i^'*!^'°'.'°'''*"™ ' " Sqnire Rowley growled 
.. Or^is to give votes to snoh pera^ns as these— " 

int.rii^e^i^°" ^P»'"'°"« «^«'^ """> of them I" 

Jol. w^^stifled in^the ^,'Z^*^J'^,:^^^'oX ^^ 

good-hnmoZi^-hf'±'"' ^ ^°''-^''^''" ^''"'™ """"^^"^ 
hnndj^TTds^^r tir^r .'S"fi/''' '^'^■"J, ^^'^ 
the conn^ of a Lt V^L . p 7 ""^ '"^ "^ » "'^l and 

here I thinVi A'i^' ^® fntinned, looking ronnd, "all 
nere, 1 think! And-and, by Jove," in a tone of klief, 



ml 






i»» CHIPPINGE 

"one more than I expected I Mr. VanghanI I am glad, 
■ir, very glad, sir," lie added heartily, "to Bee yoo. Vcir 
glad I " 

The yonng man who had alighted from his poetchaiae a 
few minn'.e8 before did not appear to reciprocate the feeling. 
He looked snllsy and bored. Bnt he (hook the ontatretchcd 
hand ; he conld do no less. Then, Baying acarcely a word, he 
stood back. He had battened to Ghippinge on receiving 
White'B belated express, bnt rather because, irritated by the 
eolliaion with Fllxton, he welcomed any change, than because 
he was sore what ho would do. In the chaise he had thought 
more of Mary thi n of politics, more of the Honourable Bob 
than of his cousin. And though, as far an Sir Bobert was 
concerned, he was resolved ta be frank and to play the man, 
his mind had travelled no farther. 

Now, thrown suddenly among these people, he was, in a 
churlish way, taken aback. Bnt he told himself (hat it did not 
matter. If they did not like the line he was going to take, 
that was their business. He was not responsible to them. In 
floe, he was in a savage mood, with half his mind here and the 
other half dwelling on the events of the morning. For the 
moment politics seemed to him a poor game, and what he did 
or did not do of little consequence. 

White and the others were not blind to his manner, and 
mi^ht have resented it in another. Bnt Sir Robert's heir had 
a right to moods if any man had ; doubtless he was become 
a fine gentleman and thought it a nuisance to vote in his 
own borough. They were all politenesa to him, therefore, 
and while his eyes passed bangbtily beyond them, seeking 
Sir Robert, they presented to him thoee whom he did not 
know. 

"Very kind of yon to come, Mr. Vanghan," said the 
Serjeant, who, like many browbeaters, could be a sycophant at 
need. " Very kind indeed ! I don't know whether yon know 
Mr. Cooke ? He, eqnally with me, is obliged to yon for yonr 
attendance." 

" Greatly obliged, sir," Mr. Cooke muttered. " Certainly, 
certainly." 

Vanghan bowed coldly. " Is not Sir Robert here ? " 
he askea. He was still looking beyond those to whom he 
snoke . 

"No,Mr.Vaughan." 



A ROTTEN BOROUGH ,,3 

un^'J 'hi* '"^Y",^"^ *^ "'''""''■•" Wliito "ied londly. 

A j^ '"®''' Dinner, gentlemen, dinner ! " 
.V 1- !I5 y*"8h8n, heedletn what, he did or where he dined, but 
Wh f ^'i" % ■*«'°n'« '"7 to amuse himwlf, went in with them. 
RnT.w "^ '^•'*l' •"« ''"".°°' Soing to vote for them. 
But that w.B hM bn«ine«g, and 8-r Eoberfs. He was not 
responsible to them. 

Certainly he wag in a very bad temper. 



CHAPTER XIII 



THE VKEMUTDBN DINNER 

Vaughan began to think more soberly of Us position wbcn 
be fonnd himself at the table. He had White, who took one 
end, on bis right ; and the Sergeant was opposite him. At 
the other end the Alderman presided, supportod by Mr. Cooke 
and the Rector. 

The young man looked down the board, at the vast tureens 
that smoked on it, and at the fhces, smug or jolly, hungry or 
expectant, which surrounded it ; and amid the flood of talk 
which burst forth as soon as bis reverence bod uttered a shoit 
grace, he began to feel the situation uncomfortable. True, he 
had a sort of right to be there, as the heir and a Vermuydeo. 
True, too, he owed nothing to any one there — nothing to the 
Sergeant, whom he disliked in his heart, nor to Mr. Cooke 
on whom he looked down (In his tastes he was as exdnsive as 
Sir Robert himself), nor to White, who wonid one day be bin 
paid dependent. He owed them no explanation. Why, 
then, expose himself to their anger and surprise ? He would 
be silent, and speak only at a proper time, when he could 
state his views to Sir Robert with a fair chance of a fair 
hearing. 

Stul, he discerned that the position in which he had placed 
himself was false, and might become ridiculous. And it crossed 
his mind to feign illness, and to go out and incontinently walk 
over to Stapvlton and see Sir Robert. Or he might tell White 
quietly that he did not find himself able to support his consin's 
nominations ; and before the news got abroad he might with- 
draw and let them think what they could. But he was too 
proud to do the one, and in too sulky a mood to do the other. 
And he sat still. 

"Where is Sir Robert ?" he asked. 

" He left home on a sudden call this morning, sir," White 
124 



THE VERMUYDEN DINNER uj 

explMuod, wondering what made the toudk wnire who wai 

U jiujt have been unpcrtant as well ag nnexuected " 

M* White." ' ""' ' """"• ' *° ''^' ^^ ^^"^ awtyKy. 

Sir RiLTf^w*' ;'■■• t^ ""derstood," White answered, "for 
.n^^w . °?' °^^ "* acquainted with it. He aUmed 

tho nom^i-n .*. ''^^Tt"■ •«PP«'""', he would be back before 
the nomination." And then, turning to Vaughan, " Yon must 
have nassed him, sir ?" he added -ion muso 

iZ'^U l.,„ T .1 * 'r»^f "»? """"go and four with jaikeU 
like his. Hut I thought that it wag empty." 

.l.„ " V"' ';'?''* T ^'' P""*"^- "« "'" not •» best pleased," 
tlie put continued, turning to the Sei^eant, " when ^e heara 
what a reception we had I " . nucu im ueara 

"Ah, well J ah, well 1 " the Sergeant replied— pleasantness 
m. te"'^'^'- " ^^"^ "" '""O i° Bath. r?l WoS! 

"No doubt, sir, no doubt I " White said. " I think " he 
^M forgetting his study of Cobbett. "the nation h« gone 

m^M^Z '^' ^M°=''?°'J °*-^f neighbour. Squire Rowley, who 
Sn.3"? T°^^ "' Stapylton, claimed ifis ear. ifc old 
Lnnu'K^''^ and good-natmred, but a bigoted Tory, who 
would have given Orator Hunt four doz,.,, and thought Lord 
Greys proper reward a block on Tower HiU, was the last 
person whom Vanghan would have chosen for a confidant : 
Binco only to hear of a Vermnyden turned Radical would have 
gone near to givmg him a fit. StUl, Vanghan must listen to 
him and answer him ; the younger man could not without 
rudeness cut the elder man short. But aU the time us they 
talked Vanghan's uneasiness increased. With every minute 
Ins eyes wandered more longingly to the door. Improved in 
& * ^ !u"5l"l^ J'y '^« politeness of his neighbours, he 
began to we that he had been foolish to thrust himself amine 
people with whom he did not agree. StUl, he was there, and 
he must see the dinner to an end. After all, a little more or 
a Uttle less would not ada to Sir Robert's anger. He oonld 
eiplain that he thought it more delicate to avoid an open breach. 
Meanwhile the collision with the crowd had loosened the 






136 



CHIPPINGE 



?'aests' lougaet, und never had a Vermuyden dinner eono more 
reely. Even the " Oripplei," who«e wont it was to begin the 
evening with unpleasant obaoqniooBneM and cloie it with a 
freedom ai odioua, fonnd speech early, and were londe«t in 
denunciation of s Bill which threatened to deprive Ihcm of 
their annnities. By the time huge joinU hud taken the pliicc 
jf the tureens, and bowls of potiitoet and mounds of asparagus 
dotted the table, the noise was incessant. There was ciarct 
for those who oared for it, and strong ale for all. And while 
some discussed the effect which a Bill that disfranchised Cbip- 
pinge would have on their pockets and interests, others, Ui iving 
their arguments home with blows on the table, recalled, almost 
with tears, the sacred name of Pitt, the pilot who weathered 
the storm , ' held up to execration a Cabinet of Whigs dead 
to every Whig princii>Te, and alive only to the chanou of power 
which a revolution might afford. 

" But what was to be expected ? What was to bo ex- 
pected?" Squire Eowley insisted. "We've only oniselvcs to 
thank 1 Wh;n Peel and the Dnke took up the Cathclio Claims 
they stepped into the Whigs' s j'l j and devilishly may they 
pinch them I The Whip had to find another pair, you see, 
sir, and stepped into the Radicals' ! And the only people left 
at a loss are the honest part of us, who are likely to end not 
only barefoot but barebacked. Ay, by G— d, we are I " 

And so on, and so on. Even White, who was vastly 
relieved iiy Yaughan's arrival, which made his majority safe, 
talked freely, giving Dyas and Pillinger of the Blue Duck the 
rough side of his tongue j while Vaughan, used to a wider 
outlook, listened to their one-sided arguments, their trite pro- 
phecies, their incredible prejudices — such they seemed to him — 
and now turned up his nose, now pitied them, as an effete, a 
doomed, a dying race. 

While he thought of this the dinner wore on, the joints 
vanished, and hnge steaming puddings made their appearance 
on the board. Those who cared not for plum-pnddings could 
have marrow-puddings. Then cheers and spring onions, and 
some special old ale, light-coloured, heady, and served in toll, 
spare gUsses, went round. At length the Eector, a trifle 
fluidicd, rose to say grace, and Yanghan saw that the cloth 
was about to be removed. Bottles of strong port and tawny 
Madeira were at bond. Already some called for their favourite 
punch, or for hot grog. 



THE VERMUYDEN DINNER „y 

And rwai'l'^" ""'°^'''' "^ •*" "^^ *'"" • K™^ 8«ce. 

But, ai ho mado a movement to riio, tbo SerKoant ron 

opposite bia,. hfted his gl,„, 8„d fixed him withr. c^ 

: I'JirJrneL^'' """' "^ '"'^ "°' •'»'^«' "' 'l''' -'--' 
"Qent|emen," the SerRoant cried in hia blandest tone "on 
Tjmr feet, if you please. The Kiufr I the KinroS blei him" 
The King, gent emen. and may be never suffer for the faults 
of bu servanta I May the Grey mare never run awav with 
bun May William tte Good ne'er be S by «^ Bi M 

1 7?-^' '^?'iu 'o° '""' ™'^ » ™« o' ianghtcr and much 

1 hu time tbo interruption came from behind 

' Hallo, Vaugban I " some one muttered in his ear. " Yon'ro 
tbo last person I eijiccted to see here 1 " 

He turned, and disgust filled him. The speaker, who had 
cL^red hte, was the son of a oleigymon in the neighCrh<»d 
and bad gone to the Bar. He wi a shifty, flattering felbw' 
at once a toady and a backbiter, who had wormed hiSL f nto 
w^ ' ^.T^ ?' 'r- ■""* " ^""don was Vanghan's m 
nf H •« A "^ ^"^ "'^i ''f ^ "" ' ^''«' ' ^0 "•^ aI»o a member 
of the Aaidemio. He had been present at Vaugban's triumoh 

7tKrm"™ '"'^ ^^ ^"^^ hinSelf a Sm 

.ni/"' f, '^T^^*: J^^^^ could find not a word ; he could 
only mutter " Oh 1 " ,n a tone of dismay. Ho foar^ that bS 
face betrayed the chagrin he felt. 

and'he Sed/°" "'" ^'^"' "" """" ""*' ^ " ^*"'^" '^'' ' 

falsc^smSr " '"^^' ^'* ^°""* °"°' "'* ""'" "P* "°^ •» 
Vaughan hesitated. " So I am 1 " he said curtly. 

" But— but I tboijght " 

" Older order ! " cried the Alderman, a trifle uplifted by 
wme and bis position. " Silence, if you please, genUemen; for 
the senior candidate I And charge your glass^f" 
w^ l°^i •" V°f°^,^ the table, a frown on his brow. Wathcn 
WM on bis feet, holding bis wineghiss before his breast with 



1 






ua 



CHIPPINGE 



one hand, while the other retted on the table. Hii attitado 
WBi that of a man confident of hii powert and pleated to exert 
them. NevertheleM, ai he prepared to apeak, he lowered his 
eyei to the table with an affectation of modeitjr. 

"Oentlemon," he said, "it ii my privileffo to propoac a 
toaat, that at thii time and in thii place — this time, gentle- 
men, when to an extent unknown witnin living memory all in 
at (take, and this place which hai lo much to loao — it ii my 
privilege, I aay, to propoae a toait that most go itralght to 
the heart of every man in thia room — ay, of evci7 trne-born 
Engliahman, and every lover of bis coontry. It ii Our Ancient 
Constitution, our Chartered Riyhta, our Vttted Tnlerestt I (Ijoad 
and continaed applauic.) Yes, gontlcmon, our ancient Con- 
stitution, the accnrity of every man, woman, and child in this 
realm. And, conpled with it, oar Chartered Rights, our Vested 
Interest*, which, nnaasailed for generations, are to-day called 
in question by the weakness of many, by the madness of some, 
by the wicked ambition of a few. (Load cheering.) Gentle- 
men, to one Cromwell this town owes the destruction of yonr 
famous abbey, formerlv the pride' of this county. To another 
Cromwell it owes the aestruction of the walls that in troublous 
times secured the hearths of yonr forefathers. It lies with us, 
but we must be instant and diligent — it lies with us, I say, to 
see that thoee civil bulwarks which protect ns and onrs in the 
enjoyment of all we have and all we hope for " 

" In this world," the Rector murmnrcd in a deep bass voice. 

"In this world," the Sergeant continued, accepting the 
amendment with a complimentary bow, "are not laid low 
by a third Cromwell. I care not whether he mask himself 
under the name of Grey, or of Runell, or of Broagham, or of 
Lansdowne t " 

He par'ied amid such a roar of applause as shook the room. 

" For I link not," the Sergeant resumed when it died down, 
"think noc, gentlemen, whatever the easily led vulgar may 
think, that sacrilegious hands can be laid on the ark of the 
Constitution without injury to other iutercsts ; without the 
shock being felt through the variois membets of the State dovn 
to the lowest ; without danger to all those multiform right<i 
and privileges for which the Constitution is our guaranke. 
Let the advocates of this pernicious, this revolutionary Bill say 
what they will, they cannot deny that its effect will be to 
deprive you in Chippinge, who for nearly five centuries have 



THE VERMUYDEN DINNER 



bottle that WTctS tho bo»rf^« i^r*^ ■?^ ^K"'^ ""^y of 
with it. And for vrho« bSScflT? p"".?'"™ "'"<''' '' Mt,s» 
nualiM-nav bv n«!Sl~f jH. ^"'" "•'"o' mrn no better 

they ownot ^iSo Kyon • Zt1o^'';hr^ ^^ . 'r'"'' ■-» 
f'oin jou. But they /o," he c^ntrn^*'i''V°^''7 ^ '■'<'" 
ffloit tragic tone, " they do hidrCmm I ' '",'"• ^"^P*"' »"d 
whole coune of hirto^ fc w ttl 7.,T " ''^ ^ "^'"^ "«> 
once begun i« rarely 2arMi>T";;."'f ".I*''"' "' '"'-bcry 
« barelbare, ^ntfemcrft 'n„ ,t ^ ""^i"''' •""'' ">o victim 

"0^^'b"^^l?.^,};j- t:»i^^ no. «.„„,bat druu. 
t^^>^ n^TLWyl" '■""'""' ""^ '-X«l ronnd th. 

Bnt"4f atlTf ti.- iSf Lr r ""'"" 'r*^ '■ 

you call them chartered nVhti n, .1. i~^ '""^' ""^ whether 
freemen enjoy of hm-whfti^'ZJl'"^ .""'"''''• ^''''^'' y°" 
them." with a penerratinee Ian~Tl?' '"."! ' Y°" ''"™ 
I'ow long, gentlemen, if ^thfgBn/Z ? '*v'° ''^' " '>"' ^"^ 
sighted to be blind to the ™>ril /iJT 7°" "■■" ^ clear- 
can part with one right ^oiV^'ir'' *" 'J''"'' """ y»« 
•"ecnred, and keep the otherannHi ^ 1«» ^e»t«d, a. perfectly 
are 80 blind, take warat^ For wr"''"^\u?'°"«'"''°' 'f y" 
dangerou,. thi, 'ev ""., ^^^ sui—.r ">« ""areWcal, thi, 

" wtt; i' «J "thrBWf""' ''^'■^•"«"> '^-^ Sqmrc. 
well believe that 'n B^^in^h ^'"^" «nPP°fterB-and / can 

h«vea,UogJraU"no^th™no,Se"t'wirfiT' "^^ ^^^ 
should find none in ChinniLo i^' i ""° wpporters— it 

nothing to gain-whereCKuTaTL^T." '" '°" ■"!" 
M«»n support it! GentlfmpS ,« V .°'.", ™8"'''«'> '" 
rogues -^ . "*'"""'e«. /on are neither fooh nor 

^l'i^rTliiT?„t"ISa " '^\f ' ^^'«-' 



"^ 



13° 



CHIPPINGE 



pfive yon the toast of Our Ancient Constitntion, onr Chartered 
Eights, onr Yested Interests. May the Bill that assails them 
be defeated by the good sense of a sober and nnited people 1 
Hay those who nrge it and those who sapport it — ^rogues where 
thev are not fools, and fools where they are not rogues — meet 
witn the fate they deserve I And may we be there to see I 
Gentlemen," raisii^ his hand for silence, " in the absence npon 
prossine business of onr beloved High Steward, the model of 
an English gentleman and the pattern of an English landlord, 
I beg to couple this toast " — here the Sergeant's sharp black 
eyes fized themselves suddenly on his opposite neighbour — 
" with the name of his kinsman, Mr. Arthur Vanghan I " 

" Hurrah 1 Hurrah I Hurrah 1 " The room shook with 
the volume of applause ; the tables trembled. And through 
it all Arthur Tanghan's heart beat hard, and he swallowed 
nervously. He was caught. Whether the Sergeant knew it 
or not, he was trapped. From the beginning of the speech 
he had had bis misgivings ; he had listened with only half his 
mind, the other half had been busy scanning the prospect 
feverishly, weighing the chances ot escape, growing chill with 
the fear of what was coming. If he had only withdrawn in 
time I If he had only 

" Hurrah I Hurrah ! Hurrah I " They were pounding the 
table with fist and glass, and looking towards him — two lines 
of flashed, excited, tipsy faces. Some were drinking to him, 
others were scanning tum cnrioQsly. All were waiting. 

He leant forwmd. "I don't wish to speak," he said, 
addressing the Sergeant in a troubled voice. " Call on some 
one else, if yon please." 

" Impossible, sir 1 " White answered, surprised by his 
evident nervousness. He had thonght Yaughan anything but 
a shy person. " Impossible, sir 1 " 

" Get up ! Get up 1 " cried the Squire, laying a jocund 
hand on him and trying to lift him to his feet. 

Bat Yanghan resisted ; bis throat was so dry that he could 
hardly frame his words. 

"I don't wish to speak," he muttered. "I don't 
agree " 

" Say what yon like, my dear sir 1 " the Sergeant rejoined, 
with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He had luid his 
doubts of Master Yanghan ever since he had caught him on 
his way to the Chancellor ; now he thonght thalhe had him 



THE VERMUYDEN DINNER 



n^'oit o^*nl? """ ""PP"* "«** ^^o yo-^g ■»'«' would da!o 

Heaven knows what he would have said-so hi^^'^ f .^ 

«t«ul^^^ » 1^™°' ''*„?"'^. (*°^ •»« Tw<=e, though low was 

he oontmned, raising hie hand for «ili.nfir " f„,^- "^°^' 
that in .uch of wh^ Sergea^Sl ^^tfc sl°j, JtCT^J 

mefn Ho»,«, K •"' ^ """^^ "°* ""«»" w*^ te seemed to 

rh:nfe^\pK°rc^^^^^^ 
"andyis:.7or^i!jiels:rfc"rSTai5rd^^^^^^^^^^ 

We of Bet purpose to flaunt my opinions Wore you 'fTi 
too -here he betrayed his secret agitation-" tU' far I do 

Eitu'tlon &n^ '^-^'^'^-l, too. al for Our AndenrCon- 
BUDUuon, 1 give place to no man in love of it i„^ r »„» 
against BevolntL. I will stand "S^t^tnot'aLtjn^" 



ija 



CHIPPINGE 



v'1^Ti?t'^®"''l " "i?^ ">« ^^^^' in a tone of unmiBtakable 
relict. " Hear, hear I " 

"Ay, go on," chimed in the Sauire. " Go on, lad. eo on 1 

Z'^'f^'^^y'L, ^°?,.¥f ""'^ '" •>» neiihtoir^s ^r 
" Gad, be frightened me I " he muttered. 

"But— but to be plain," Vanghan resumed, pronouncinc 

eveiy word clearly, "I do not r^ard the Bilf which the 

Sergeant has mentioned, the Bill which is in all your minds 

as assailing the one, or as being tantamount to the other I 

On the contrary, I beheve that it restores the ancient balance 

of the Constitution, and wiU avert, as nothing eUe will avert 

a revolution. ' ' 

I. . ^l''.® P!"'*? °° J'""' "or<J' *e Squire, who was of a free 
habit, tned to rise and speak, but choked. The Rector gasped. 
Onlv Mr. Cooke foimd his voice. He sprang to his feet, pn?ple 

t'o tWs ?"^" ^ '°^' " "" "" «°^° '° '^^" 

Vanghan sat down, pale but composed. But he found all 
eyes were on him, that no one spoke, and ho rose aguin 

"It was against my will I said what I have said" he 
resumed. " I did not wish to speak. I do not wish you to 
listen. I rose only because I was forced to rise. But, being 
on my feet, I owed it to myself to eaj enough to clear myself 
of— of the appearance of duplicity. That is all." 

The Sergeant did not speak, but gazed darkly at him, his 
mind weighing the effect which this would have on the election. 
White, too, did not speak ,• he sat stricken dumb. The Squire 
swore, and five or sii of the more intelligent hissed. But 
again it was Cooke who found words. 

"That all ? But that is not all I " he shouted "That 

!i,!.°L*ll' ^'^l' "*, y"' "' ' " ^o"" «'»". in common with 
~?!L « «* 1*8 table, he could not believe that he heard 
ar^Wi" He fameied that this was some- trope, siAne nics 
debatmg^b^distinfctioni'which'hehadaot fojfowed. "Tott 
!ll?Jl'?'i ? L ..^^""y**"'" consin' ten times wei" he 
eantiated ^ehebenty," but We'll 'have it dear what WeWo 
tb ei6ect;-8peak«tea man,Bi» f' 8«y whatyoumeani" ■ i 
Vaojshaii had token bis seat, but U rose' afeaia, a gleam of 
angl* la hi« 6y««." ■' ■ • ■• . i , i,,. ■■ hT^. ..,!, ■*,.,„ 
, "HaVeil not Upbken J)lainly P"he'8«i^.i "1 thoMAtT 
tad;; M>n stiJl' diribt, sir, il.«ta 'fo» the Cbnstittf^Lt 
1 think that it has suffered by the woar and tear of time and 



THE VERMUYDEN DINNER „, 

rise of anothe- oalla tnrV^^ , °**"y of one place and tl,. 
I hold that the*7reld „rk'„owS '" ."'^. "P'^S 
lai^e and wealthy clW^nnoonZT^^-Iu*?^ ''" '^"on of a 

lb^^^lSZl°:il^l^^i^'>oi.,,ni tbe storm broke 
the greater Bomte? b^t i°^J^«» «J«? wber. stared. But 
of anger. ""'' ""» » "^r of dissent, of reprobation 

violi^thtet h^^c^^^^^^^ «-«'•" he cried' 

"What are you dofn' i;ere?-^afH''f •' 1, "R-dicaU" and 

aU.m some/desree 8tniin?aU i?^ S ""■• .?»'' "hove 

Are yon for tbe Rill ? a ' ^^ookes crnoial aueatinn 

tended'his ha^d for ^eL ^"^T ""* }^ ' " And' ht e "-' 

" I am." Tans'h»r»n^' ^^^on for the Bill ? •• " 

" Ton ^ ? »^'^° '^''«'^- The storm steadied him 

" Yes " ^^' 

remmds me, Sergeant Wathtnl """^ ^^ ^o*^- "ThsS 
haa addressed h^«,lf Sy to lIT™ ^"j* ^'"- »«» he 
1 am for the Bill_l am for thf j?:??,^ Prejudices, gentlemen 1 
their attention was wanderinc "i^?.* '"P"^' seeing that 
others*we°r^&%™fd' jSen^d. Some were on their feet 

from him. WlSS-wJrt/'^;^»« ?»' '' '«" "«« '»™^' 
. A few paces within tK. j °™^ to see j and he saw 
hisfnr-colffl^" tg^^^'^J.^^ Bobert hSlf; 

speaker ; it was irt^ WXTeaJShfl Z ^. 



»34 



CHIPPINGE 



And Vanglian had been resolnte indeed, if, taken by gnrprise 
and at this dimlvantage, he had not (hown some diBComfitnre. 
It is easy to nnile now. Eaiy to Bay that this wag bnt an 
Engliih gentleman, bound like others by the law, and Vaughan'a 
own kinsnuin. Bat few wonld have amlled then. He, through 
whose hands passed a qnaiter of the patronage of a county ; 
who dammed or turned the stream of promotion ; who had 
made many there and could unmake them ; whose mere hint 
could have consigned, a few years back, the troublesome to 
the press-gang ; who belonged almost as definitely, almost as 
exclusively to a caste, as do white men in the India of to-day ; 
who seldom showed himself to the vulgar save in his coach 
and four, or riding with belted grooms behind him— about 
such an one in '81 there was, if no divinity, at least the wga 
of real power, that habit which unquestion^ authority confers, 
that port of Jove to which men bow ! Scan the pictured faces 
of the men who steered this country through the long war— 
the faces of Liver, -oil and Oastlerasgh — 

" Daring pilots in extremity, 
Sootsing the danger when the wavea ran high ; " 

or of those men, heirs to their traditions, who for nearly 
twenty years confronted the no less formidable forces of 
discontent and disaffection— of Peel and Wellington, Croker 
and Canning— and he is blind who does not find there the 
reflection of that firm rule, the shadow of that power which 
still survived, though maimed and weakened, in the early 

thirties. l .1. * 

Certainly it was not easy to smile at snch men then ; at 
their pride or their prejudice, their selfishness or their eccen- 
tricity. For behind toy solid power. Small blame to Vaughan, 
therefore if in the face of the servile attitude, the obsequious 
rising of the company, he felt his countenance change, if he 
couJdnot quite hide his dismay. And though he told himself 
that his feelings were out of place, that the man did but stand 
in the shoes which would one day be his, and was bnt now 
what he wonld be, voxfaueibut hatit—he was dumb. It was 
Sir Robert who broke the silence. 

" I fear, Mr. Vaughan," he said, the gleam in his eyes 
alone betraying his passion— for he would as soon have walked 
the country lanes in his dressing robe as given way to ragein 
that company — " I fear yon are ottering in haste words which 



THE VERMUYDEN DINNER ,35 

yoa will repent at leignre. Did I hear nrlaht fh.t *i, » 
are in favow of the Bm ? » * ' that-that yoa 
" I am," Vanghan replied hnskily. " I- •> 

" Son will owe me UtUe by to-morrow evenine " Sir Pohort 

raSS^-to^M™wp'^.°"*'''''^''P°'"'- WiUyon'beg,^ 

«Wm'^v„!f'\?nJP' ^^V 'W^that I came here " 

"ThaTki"? tt-IIL"''''*^^" «" Bobert persUted. 
the d«»? "An, r"^ *8»in, and still more blkndlyrto 
tfte door. "Any explanation yon may please to offer-and T 
do not deny that one were not ont of pW-yonX ef™ to 

I^am .mre. compel me to remove with^my frien^to Itht^ 

tn ntrtin^ ''* wnWnned to point to the door, and wonld listen 
to nothing-and the room was certainly hi^-lvangl^n wS 
ont And Anmbal closed the door belund him ^ 



CHAPTEE XIV 

MISS sibsoh's mistake 

It wm, perhaps, fortunate for Miss Hilhonse that she did not 
hMard any remarks on that second encounter in the Sqnare. 
Whether thu amendment in her manners was due to Miss 
SibBon B apophthegms, or to the general desire of the school 
to B^ the new teacher's new pelisse— which coild only be 
gratified by favour— or to a threatening rigidity in Marv 
Smith s bearing, mnst remain a question. But children are 
keen observers. Their senses are as.sharp as their tongues are 
CTuel. And It IS rertam that Miss Smitt had not r^ foar 
lines of the fifth chaper of "The Fairchild Family," before 
a certain sternness in her tone was noted-even by those 
who had not already marked the danger signal in hw eyes. 
For the gentlest eyea can dart lightnings on occasions. 
Even the sheep will turn in defence of her lamb. Nor 
ever walked woman who could not fight for her secret and her 
pnde. 

K.i,?l5*^^i-H'^ '''.' ¥/ '°"8°« «'<^ ■'ept sUence, the girls 
behaved beautifully, and Mary read " The FairchUd Family " 
to them in a tone of monotony, that perfectly reflected the 
future as she saw it. She hacf been ^ foolish and very 
weak; but she was not without excuse. He had saved her 
We, she could plead that. True, brought up as she had been at 
Clapham shielded from aU deahngs with the other sex, taught 
to regard them as wolves, or at best as a race with which flie 
could have no safe parley, she should have known better. She 
should have known that, handsome, courteous, masterfnl-eyed 
as they were and with a way with them that made poor girla' 
hearts throb at one moment and stand stiU at ano^er-she 
should have known that they meant nothing. That thev were 
atiU men, and that she mnst not trust them, mnst not think of 
136 



MISS SIBSON'S MISTAKE ,3, 

to "a-^w Ji: \:;^ •^^'^ •• ^ - -t in h. nau,™ 

2^U:Z TL''''J'' -".ercook spoat ? " 
speak? Whatdoyon^Lnfckildf^'' ^"^^ '^^""'^•'•X'k 

have She'i'aLh^S'"^ "^'"^'^ "I-« I lid, I shoald 

whie^hllLtrCf iVn/^^' ^,"' -'^^ hot face, a face- 
Bbo wa, coMcioasthS every eve Z"" ""'"^"'Wy because 
score of smaU minds were ™nf/^ /m upon it, and that a 
fusion. • " ^P'°g for 'he cause of her con- 

Jr^"^'^ J^i.'^^^-en/e remembered-that the 

good quality except s^^n"^^,*:^ Andtw*..'^ 'IV 
how rapidly had she orovJ tho t Jli! . ^ """^ thoroughly, 
from controWor onWeutvf?n\*''''''rf'P''^^ ^ 
to her own devices Lh«S^;I?°i°.'™'u''^'' ^" *l^t time 
addressed her, beM f^^ fi^ffl ^ '? *^* ^' ^o'"* that 
her, taken the mmr^in.r, S^ ^f.'*«""8 'ook that fell on 

anygirlwith WlLj^HetoSfc-'^fi'T ■?,', "'''«'' 
have smUed-for golfrMl rtT j^u e^'T^ °^ ''" ™°M 
without a spoken wMd' h^ /™„f.^'^- , ^ '5*' " "'Sht look, 
that being m, it b^wk w .- ^ •' ^ ?"" •"'• H'"' 
discipline^eiielf I How Z n„ tP? ''*""''/• '«"•"> ''ereelf 
futnT^^I AWeakhow th^nkfuf .hn'^./°!!"^j!?^^ '" «■« 
bnt safe routine thit rn™? anS^""'^ !u^ '^ ^^ "^e "^u" 
life from snch^rS? I ' ''«'<»forth must fence, her 

strewed' bXt W l''^ w7°'"'« ^Jf .seemed that routine 

of mominrK to mo™,W 7"«f f«?t«d »' the prospect 

lesson to leswn, one ~nSn T"' T''' *" ^"™»' ™lk. 

generation ^aU K ^*Zi°^ P^P"" .f^K^ °i'^''' ' ^" 
i« loiiow generation, one chubby face would 



»38 



CHIPPTNGE 



Rive plaoo to another, and still she wonld be there, ploddbg 
throngh the stale task, listening with an aching hem to the 
tnnelees harpsichord, sajing the same things, finding the same 
fanlts, growing slowly into a oorrectintr, scolding, pnni^ng 
machine. By-and-by she wonld know " The FairchiW Btoily " 
by heart, she would sicken at the " Letters on the Improve- 
ment of the Hind." The children would still be yonng, but 
grey hairs wonld come to her, she would grow stout and dull ; 
and these slender hands, these dainty fingers still white and 
fine, still meet for love, wonld be seared by a million needle- 
pricks and roughened by the wea and tear of ten thoosand 
hours of plain sewing. 

She was ungrateful— oh, she was ungrateful — to think 
snoh thoughts 1 For in what was her lot worse than the lot 
of others ? Or worse than it had been a week4>efore, when 
who more humble-minded or contented, more cheerful or help- 
ful than Mary Smith ? When her only fault had been a wrak- 
nesB of character, which her old schoolmistress hoped would be 
cured by time ? When, though tW shadow of an unknown 
Miss Sibeon loomed formidable before her, she had faced her 
fate bravely and hopefully, supported not a little by the love 
and good wishes— won by a thousand kind offices— which 
went with her into the unknown world ? 

What had happened in the interval ? What had happened 
to change^ all this ? A little thing, oh, a very little uiing. 
But to think of it nnder the children's eyes maae her face 
bum anew. She had lost her heart — to a man. To a man I 
The very word seemed improper in that company, in that 
place I . How much more impoper when the man cared 
nothing for her, but, tossing her a smile for guerdon, bad 
taken her peace of mind, and gone his way, with a laugh. 
At the best, if he had ever dreamt seriously of her, ever done 
more than deem her a simpleton lightly flattered, and as 
lightly to be won, he had changed h5 mind as quickly as a 
weathercock shifts in April. And he had talked— that hurt 
•her most ! He had talked of her freely, boasted of her silli- 
ness, told his companions what he would do, or what he would 
not do ; made her common to them. 

She got away for a few minates at tea-time. Bnt twenty 
pairs of eyes followed her from the room, and seized on her 
as she returned. And " Miss Smith, ain't yon well ? " piped 
a tiny treble. 



MISS SIBSON'S MISTAKE ij^ 

She woa Mntrolling her yoice to soBwer— that ahe «« 
1«tf ;j?ll--when MiMlihwn intervened 

Hm Fripp," she aaid iombrely, " write, ' Are Ton not ' 

IZ fn tw A^"" •'•'«.''"« '««' Mi« Hifhoni!"f°yoa 
(tare in that fashion, yon will be goggle^yed. Yonnn' ladiaL 

the art of deportment coniiM in the right nse of thedbow ? 

" In the right use of the elbow, Ma'am." 

And what ii the right dm of the elbow ? " 
" To efface it, Ma'am." 

siy'B*^sfe*;iTp .^°" '^ '""""-^ -^^-^ 

wi*!? » "- ''*'*^,_ """happy J oonKioM that ahe had not 
been aa attentive to her dntiei a« became her. "I Wl no 
occaa^n to find fault, Ma'am," she ».id timidly: 
,^ ». ^^i.?T^-. ^''*° «^"y ^°"tt yonng lady, beeinnimr 

8^« iiTA"**"" '"*^«f ">* '^^'^ '°«1»' ^0' good condn^ 
She may take a piece, and give a piece to a friend. Whra tod 

tJlTl T" l^y^^ «" ?° '^ ""« «hoXom lid pC 
for half Mhonr at blind man's W. BntJ-elbowsl Elb5w/ 

ffiiration" ' '"'^" '*' deportment be your first 

thJ''VilM-"TJ! ""u'-r? Mary Smith rose to go with 
them. Bnt Miaa Sibson bade her remain. 

"I wiah to apeak to yon," ahe aaid. 
m^ Maiy trembled. Miss Sibson was atill in aome 
measure an unknown quantity to her ; a perplexing mixture 
of ^verity and benevolence, s^iund seni, and iL. Cha^nL 
™ ' iil^J* ^.'J^ *^ y°?'" Mi™ Sibson continued whS th 



were alone. 



1 they 



lipnu.lf „n!* ^S^^' ^^^' ' P"°*^' •J"'"? "Woh She poured 
"t^ J. ' *]T^ ""P ?^ •**' "My dear,^' she said sSberly, 
Ht.^ J7»r/ ^'*'* '^'I'u^ ^'™*=«^ 'ho ^^'- I took a fali^ 
step a few days ago-f blame myself for it-when I allowed 

I made that exception, partly out of respect to the note which 
the parcel contamed j the affair was out of the ordinary And 



MO 



CHIPPINGE 



portly— became I liked the gentleouui. 1 thongbt bim a 
gentleman, bo told me tbat be bad an independence, I had 
no reason to think him more. But I have heard to-day, that 
he ii a person of great e-peotations who will one day be very 
noh and a man of stoi jg in the connlry. Tbat altera the 
position,' Miss Sibson continned gravely. "Had I known 
It "—she mbbod her nose tbonghtfnlly with the handle of hi,, 
teaspoon— "I should not have prmitted the interview." And 
then, after a few seconds of silence, "Yon understand mo. I 
tbmk, my dear ? " she asked. 

" Yes," Mary said in a low voice. She spoke with perfect 
composure. "^ 

" Just so, jnst so," Miss SibK>n answered, pleased to see 
that the girl was too proud to give way before her— though 
she was sure that she would cry by-and-by. " I am glad to 
think that there is no harm done. As I have said, the sooner 
a false step is retraced, the better j and therefore, if he calls 
again, I shall not permit bim to sed yon." 

" I do not wish to see him," Mary said with dignity. 
" Very good. Then that is understood." 
But, strangely enough, the words had barely fallen from 
the schoolmistress's lips when a visitor's knock was heard 
The same thought leapt to the mind of each ; and to Mary's 
cheek a sudden blush, that, fading as quickly as it came, left 
her paler than bofolre. Miss Sibson saw the girl's distress, and 
she was about to suggest, in words equivalent to a command, 
that she should retire to her room, when the door opened and 
the maid-servant, with thinly veiled excitement, announced 
that a gentleman wished to see Miss Smith. 

Miss Sibson frowned. " Where is he ? " she asked with 
majesty ; as if she already scented the fray. 
" In the parlour, Ma'am." 

"Very good. Very good. I wiU see him." But not 
nntu the maid had retired did the scboolnmtreds rise to her 
feet, "Yon had better stay here," she said, looking o'. her 
companion, " until my return. It is , f course your wish that 
1 should dismiss him ? " 

Poor Mary I Those dreams of something brighter, some- 
thing fuller, something higher than the daUy round, those 
dreams of a life in the sunshine, of eyes that would look into 
herB--this was their ending 1 She shivered, but she answered 
bravely, " Yes." 



'if 



MISS SIBSON'S MISTAKE 



141 
"Good girl," nid Hih Sibion. teelinir kin.l i,«»~.. 

~e him , that, on the otherUd, i7.he did L "n.^'^Jhrh"' 
she wonid never, n.ver, never see him again I SheVonId .taJ 
here-al«i.y. ; bonnd hand and foot toX nnchan Jng " nnj 
of petty dnt,e«, a blind sUve in the mill, no longw a^w^n 
thongh bor woman', heart hnngered for love, bat I dnll 7S' 
old maid, growmg more .tiff, more peeviah with even- Zr 
ft" «'"«».*« r?*l to see the whiote long vista YnSTn 
And ghe dared not, she dared not open the door 1 '"*"""• 
» w„rir-iS!.l*5* bethought her that after all he conld not be 
a weathercook, for he had come again. He bad come I And 
itmu.tbefor«)mething. For what? For what? 
.n^ if ^ '?il? .^T "P*"' 0° '•'^ I»'''<"» »Me of the hall 

Oh 1 • the rehoolmistreas exclaimed j an/for rmoment 
she wa. ..lent, gazing strangely at the giri as i Ihe dfd not 
know what to »y tAet. h last, " We were mirtSken " ^e 
said, with a senons face. " It is not the genUeman you-we 
thought It was, my dear. On the contiaiy, ifs-it's a stauiMr 
who wishes to see yon— on business." »» a stranger 

Mary tried to gain command of herself 

I do'L^t'iwri^:,:"*^ "•' """"^- •■ '-' ••^^ »*''- -><>'. 

^vifV*^.""^??".!.""^'" ^"^ ^'^^ rejoined, with nnnsnal 




■•■IT ..li .;... I.,,.. 

,^»!3 ^v;!^! -,„„-. .,i ,.j^, 



o . 1. .,>,.,„. 



CHAPTER XV 



HB. ftbub'b offkb 

"AiroTBforyon, «ir." 

Vanghsn moodil; took it lb wm the morning after the 
Vcrmnraen dinner, and he had slept ill, had riien late, and 
wai still sitting before his breakfast, toying with it rather than 
eatiig it. His fint feeling on leaving the dining-room had 
been bitter chagrin at .ue ease with which Sir Robert had 
dealt with him. La>^r, this feeling had given place to amnse- 
ment, for le bnrl i. sense of hnmonr. And he had hnghed, 
thongh sorel> r.:. the fignre he had cut as be beat his retreat. 
Still later, as i'.c lay, excited and wakefnl, he had fallen a prey 
to donbt ; that horrible three-o'clock-in-thc-moming donbt, 
which defies reason, which sees the cctu in the strongest light 
and reduces the proi to shadows. One thing, however, woe 
oertaiu ; he had crossed the Bnbicon. He bad divorced him- 
self from the party to which his forbears — for the Vanghans 
as well as the Vermnydens had been Tories— bad belonged. 
He bid joined the Whigs ; nav, he had joined the Reformers. 
Bat though he had done this deliberately and from conviction, 
thoagh his ref>Bon approved the step, and bis brain teemed 
with argnmcnts in its favonr, the chance that he might be 
wrong haunted him. 

That governing class from which he was separating himself, 
from which his policy would snatch power, which henceforth 
woold dob him deserter, what had it not done for England ? 
With how firm a hand had it gnided the conntry through 
storm and stress, with what sncoess shielded it, not only from 
foreign foes, but from disruption and revolution ? He scanned 
the last hundred and fifty years and saw the conntry, always 
ondcr the steady mle of that class which had the greatest 
stake in its pronierity, advancing in strength and ri(£es and 
comfort ; ay, and — thongh slowly in these — in knowledge also. 






MR. PYBUS'S OFFER ,45 

!Sfl/™^„T"'"'" "Vf f «*»<='«• And thoquMtion forced 
I i ??"" Wm-wonid lliat great middle cIm, into whom 
hsTOM tde gw.7 mnst fall, dm it better ? Would they pS 
rtateimen more able than Walpolo or than Chatham. ~ta 
vTL"^^" ^k""" ?:">'»''"?<'"'. » hiKher heart than nK" ? 
Nay would the matter end there ? #ould not power .lip into 
the hand, of a wider and yet a wider cini,. ? 'would rtrito? 
Hunt .dream of Manhood Suffrage, Animal Parliament., the 
Ballot, become a reality ? Would government by the majority 
government by tale of head^-a. if three chawbacon, mw 
perforce be wiser than one «inire-govemment by the ill- 

«^ "wnn ?! W '^i. ';"' "" '*"' ^ •"* "^ ">• »<»' to 

miS^nna ? '° °^ ""' ^'^^ "•* "*"""y '" '"»' 

It wa« JMt poBiblo that thoM who conudered the balance 
.L'^™"' '^^^^^ •hundred and fifty yean before, to te 
the one perfect mean between despotUm aid anarchy-it wag 
jMt i>o«i,ble that they were right, and that he wa. a fooL 
>. I, 5*'','i^iT^'"r,°"''^ '™ni thi. unplemnt .peculation. 
toMed and tumbled, in dingurt with ti. conduct. He wm 

?.™i;^l,"' >r?f P"**'- ^? '"''' '''™'''^- He had the coui^o 
^rKrrtho, '"'"'"'"o'". to defy opinion, to di«rega^ 

fZ ?^ ' ^Z^ ?° ^""^ *.*" * F"'"' °' P"''e "M concerned ; 
for It wa. atautd to fancy that tie fate of Englat,! hung on 
hu voice. But in a matter which went to the root of hi. 
hapi.meM-H.ince be was .ure that he loved Mary Smith, and 
would love no rther-he had not the .pirit to defy a little talk 
a few .mdei. the contempt of the worldly. He flnahed from 
head to foot at the thought of a life whiohV howeve? m^iT^ 
h! w ]^ '^^/u' '"<=o™P^ihle with ambition-wa. Aared 
by her, and would be pervaded by her. And yet he dared not 
purchase that life at «, triflin/ a cort ! Norhe ITy^^k 
where he .hould be rtrong, and .trong whcr^ he .houlHo 
weak. And bo he had tc«.ed and turned, and now, after 
two^r three hour.' feveriri, .lecp, he aat glooming o^er Ws 

l,.„Tlff° K^ ''* ^^^^ ?J^° ""^ """^ "•''"•' the waiter had 
handed to him. He read it, and— 

;; Who brought this ? '■ he asked, with a perplexed face. 

the b^wLt rC' *^ "P'"' «'""^' '^""""^ '»-"-' 



144 



CHIPPINGE 



" Will yon inquire ? " . . , . 

" Found it on the hall-table, sir," the man an»wercd, in 
the Bame tone. " Fancy it's a mnaway knock, sir. Known a 
man find a cabbage at the door, and a whole years wages 
under it— at election time, sir 1 Tes, sir," he contmued, 
carrying the tray to the sideboard. " Find funny things in 
funny places— election time, sir." . 

Vaughan made no reply, bnt after reflecting for some 
minutes he took his hat, and, descending the stairs, strolled 
with an easy air into the street. He pnsed, as if to admire the 
old Abbey Church, beautiful even in its disfignrement. Then 
he turned, apparently careless which way he went, to the right. 

The High Street, with ita whitened doorsteps and gleaming 
knockers, lay languid in the sunshine, enervated perhaps by the 
dissipation of the previous evening. The candidates who 
would presently pay formal visits to the voters were not yet 
afoot i and though tovems, wheie the tap was running, already 
gave forth maudlin laughter or the refrain of some tipsy 
song, no other sign of the coming event declared iteelf. A 
few tradesmen stood at their doors, a few dogs lay stretched in 
the snn ; and only Vaaghan's common sense told him that he 
was watched. 

From the High Street he presently turned into a narrow 
alley on the right, which descended between garden walls to 
the lower levi of the town. A man who was lounging in the 
mouth of the alley muttered " Second door on the left, as be 
passed, and, without appearing to heed him, Vaughan moved 
on, counting the doors. At the one indicated he paused, and 
after making certain that he was not observed he knocked. 
The door opened a little way. . , . u- „n! 

" For whom are you ? " asked some one, who kept himsell 

ont of sight. 

"Buff and blue," Vanghan answered. 

" Right, sir," the voice rejoined briskly. The door opened 
wide and Vinghai pasted' *s. 'He fonnd himself in a snwll 
wriled wadensnlotllefed'tnlilalis aM'hittlnmmi iand'sHaded by 
two great chestnuMrees already so fully in leaf as to hide the 
i«itot6wtJefc'tbe'^deli'betofiged«i; ■ '■ '• •■' -^J 

The person who had admitltod hlhiii' «'ve4f "«»". "^^^J "«■* 
jrenUeiii in »• high-toUaifed ■ Woe coat aUd ^BMketir trousers, 
♦Ml a todundsBt'soft crsirrt wound about Mi thin^neck, 
bowed low. 



MR. PYBUS'S OFFER i^j 

If, "p^fPP^i.-'°,'*5 ??"• ^'- Van-han," ho chirped. " I am 
Mr. P^bas, hia lordship's man of businVss. Hapw to be Z 
mtermcdiary in go pleasant a matter, sir." ^'^^ "" *"" 

••Y„n»,^?f " ""^ ""^ """^ »"'" VoDRhan replied dryly 

Yon wrote me a very mysterious note, Mr. Pybnl" ^ ' 

. ^a°J >>« too careful, sir," the little man answered with 

liord John Bnssell. " Can't be too careful in these matte™ 
You're watched and I am watched, sir " 
." A ^^^7" Yaughan replied. 

;| No, I don't." 

"No? The younger generation I Just so. Manvofthn 
younger gentry smoke. I'm told. Other days, oth7r manne™ I 
Well to bnsmess. We know of course whi Cd3 Zt 

"vi^Ti?','^ P"™'" Y*°S'»° "^Plio*! coldly- 
'.,h«l^ *°"^J X^'y SoodI Of conrae," he continued 

"Oh I" 

" Yes. indeed. Yes. And ho wrote to me this morning- 
m^h„ dressmg-gown, I don't doubt. Ho comIS me^to 

But hero Vanghan stopped him, with some abruptness 
'One minuto, Mr. Pybns," ho said. "I don't wish to kn^ 
l^l^^. Lansdowno said, or did, because it wUl no" affecT 
ray conduct. I am here because yon asked me to imnt Tnn 
J^rfSsTown^."' '^y"" P«^ be mer^lyt conf^tC 
a tone alitr^ nf.S?''™^f' or di^pproval," he continued, in 
a tone a little more contemptnons than was necessarr " hn 
good enough to understand that they are ^uXSeren? 
p w J '^'^e done what I have done withSnt 4™m tTs^r 

H.„l';?,? f ""f? °°^ ' , H*""" ™« on' ' " tte litt!o man cried 
lights, under the gi^eat chestnut-tree, he looked like a pcr^ 



146 



CHIPPINGE 



brigbt-colonied bird hopping about "Hear mc out, and 
you'll not say that 1 " 

" I shall still say, Mr. Pybns " 

" I beg you to near me out I " 

Vanghan shrugged his shoulders. " Go on 1 " he said. 
" I have said my say, and I suppose you understand me." 

" I shall hold it unsaid," Mr. Pybus rejoined, " until I have 
spoken I " And he waved an agitated finger in the air. 
" Observe, Mr. Yaogban 1 His lordship bade me take yon 
entirely into confidence, and I do so. We ve only one candidate 
—Mr. Wrench. Colonel Petty is sure of his election in Irehind, 
and we've no mind to stand a second contest to fill his seat ; 
in fact, we are not going to nominate him. Lord Kerry, my 
lord's eldest son, thought of it, but it is not a certainty, and 
my lord wishes lam to wait a year or two and sit for dtlne. 
I say it's not a certainty. But it's next door to a certainty 
since yon have declared yourself. And my lord's view, Mr. 
Vanghan, is that he who hits the buck should have the haunch. 
You take me ? " ' 

" Indeed, I don't." 

" Then I'll be downright, sir. To the point, sir. Will 
you be our candidate ? " 

" What ? " Vanghan said. He turned very red. " What 
do you mean ? " 

" What I say, sir— I am a man of my word. Will you be 
onr candidate ? For the Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing bnt 
the Bill ? If so, we shall not breathe a word until to-morrow, 
and then we shall nominate yon with Mr. Wrench, and take 
'em by surprise. There, do you see? They'll have their 
speeches ready, full of my lord's interference and my lord's 
dictation ; and they will point to Colonel Potty, my lord's 
cousin, for proof! And then"— Mr. Pybus winked, much 
after the fashion of a mischievous paroquet — "we'll knock 
the stool from under 'cm by nominating you 1 And, mind yon, 
Mr. Vaughan, we are going to win. We were hopeful before, 
for we've one of their men in gaol, and another — Pillinger 
of the Blue Duck— is tied by the leg. His wife owes a bit of 
money, and thinks more of fifty guineas in her own pocket 
than of thirty pounds a year in her husband's. Anyway, she 
and the doctor have got him in bed, and will see that he's not 
well enough to vote I Ha ! Ha I Amusing, isn't it ? So 
there it is, Mr. Vaughan 1 There it is 1 My lord's offer, not 



MR. PYBUS'S OFFER 



147 



mine. I beUeve he'd word from London what von'd bo likely 
j^n™S "^ ' """^ *'^°*' °"'^'°^' °°'" y" ^^^ 

than'heTke7''°^''*° "^"^'^" •^^' 'S'^'^' ^^ ^^ *® ""^ 
one!"""' "'' °^' ■"^ '°'^'' ° K*""*"""". if e^er there was 
And Mr. Pybng, pnUinp down hia wautoort, looked as 
gcntmr^ ™''''^ ""'<* °^ '^ loidahip" 

n,Pnw"&J*°?* '" ""'°c'"' ''i' «P penetrating the ahim- 
mmng depths of green, where the branches of thi chestnnt- 
tr^,nnder which he stood, swept the snn-kisaed tnrf. And 
as he thought, he tried to stiU the turmoil in his brain. Here 
Z^J!!^^ °^t! ^,^^' '".'?'?« «■• l^'ve, was that which hS 

Forom or the Academic, that he was addressing the Commons 
of England 1 But verily and reaUj to be one of thataS 
bod^. and to have all within reach. Had not the offefrf 
Cabinet honours fallen to Lord Pahnerston at twenty-five? 
And what Lord Palmoraton had done at twenty-five he'might 
f2L /^;^''*l Aad more easUy, mnch more easily, if he 
gamed a footing, before the crowd of new members, whom the 
m must brwg m took the floor. The thonght s^t his pnlse 

^?°i;»^?^*'^''^1'=•' *">.' =^ bntl he let it sU^ 
now It might not be his agam for long years. For it is poo? 
work, waitmg for dead men's shoes. *^ 

It was not wonderful that he was tempted. It was not 
wonderful that such an offer, made without price or preface, 
by a man who had power to push him, by the man who even 
now was pushmg Ki. Macanlay at Oalne, tempted him sorely. 
And not the lesj because he remembered with bitterness that 
Sir fiobert, with two seats in bis hands, had never given him 
a thought, and now never would ! So that, if he refused this 
oner, he could look for no second offer from either side I 

And vet he could not forget that Sir Robert was hia kins- 
man, of his blood, was the head of his family, was the donor 
of his vote. In the night watches he had decided that, hi* 
rnrnd delivered, hui independence declared, he would not vote. 
Meither for Sir Robert, for conscience' sake ; nor against Sir 
Kobert, for hig name's sake 1 And now he was invited not 



148 



CHIPPINGE 



Um^° drew a deep breatb, and ho put Iho tcmplBtion from 

»i,'!^t'"° """^ °^^'e<ii 'o his lordship," he said. ouieOy 
" bnt I cannot accept hig offer." quieuy, 

''Mr^»LwP' ''^" ..^'■- ^biis_ cried, in artoni.hment. 
T, w y^^^°/ 7°^.^°? ' "^^ "' «' ' Yon don't mean it I 
It» a safeji^t I It", in yonr own hand., I tell von I And 

. flnn^i' ' ^'f '?.°?.'i^ " r '""^ not decla^ yonrBTtf " 
nw irVl,°?*P'^'''^»°8han repeated coldly/ "I am 
obhged to Lord Lansdowne for hia flattering thonght of ^ 

fn^fJ^/""!*" "on^^yo-ythanl" to himT Bnt*^! cannot,' 
m the position I occupy, accept the offer." 

Mr. PybM stared. Was it possible that the scene at the 
Vermijden dinner had been a mse, ,v stratagem, a piece of 
tiTZoner'""''"^\ To turn his flank ?^f so. 

favl^ol-Ihe BrMr'l^a^t''?"""'"^''' ''"' "'°" "« '» 
"lam." * 

" And of Eeform generally, I understand ? " 
" Certainly." 

" A^id you've declared yourself ? " 
"Yes.'' ' 

.fJ^^IPr'^" ^ "^"J'' "P^era'M'd. Flatly, I don't under- 
stand. Why do yon refuse ? " 

.i.T'"*'^ ^'^ '''^ •'Z** ""^ '"o''*^ a' 1>™ Witt » gesture 
which would have reminded Isaac White of Sir Eobert. 

" That is my business, Mr. Pybus," he said. 

' But you see,'' Mr. Pybns remonstrp,ted aniionslv— he 
was rather a crestfallen bird by this time, and far past hoppin^ 
- how you pl^ me ! 1 was never more snr^sed ii my 
hfe. Never! You see, I've told you aU our secrets." 

"I shall keep them." 

" Oh dear, oh dear I This is most disconcerting." 

" You need be under no alarm." 
iJ'J'thJt^'Vl ^ear I oh dear I " Poor Pybus was think- 
mg of what he had said about Mrs. Pillinger of the Blue 
w ■. IZ? ^"^ ' ^'^^ ^^ *» "^y- I am afraid I have 
5r°v*^ir'?'J*'y "^'y' Very precipitate! Of course. 
Mr. Vanghan, he continued humbly, "tim offer would not 



MR. PYBUS'S OFFER ,4, 

We^ b^n made if we had not thought you were certain to 

thS^u^^'" y*?8'"n «,PM with dig^ty, "yon can con«ider 
^meit^.""' '^" ■^*- ^°° -na/beVure'thaarU no[ 
"WeU! WeU!" 

low'^ti^ncf ' °? S'''J'«'?'«° continued, beginning to 

Pybu^' ^' "'"* " "°""°8 ""ore to bi said, Mr. 

"No," the agent replied, with all his feathers drooninp^ 

I appose not^ If yon really won't change your mkd sb ^^ ^' 



CHAPTER XVI 



LESS THAN A HBBO 

Aww'v 'T^^ °i i""" ^V on Which the meeting between 
tl^t^fJ"-^'""/''^ ?^'- Py*"" had taken place, !ndS 
nn fWT T'odo^ in the front of StapyltSn lights shC 
iZ^L^'^'r^ f"*^"/^ «>« P*'"^' here. twinK faiT 
i, l,>wi."'*i°°S ""T °^ '"•^ "hich shimmered wfe-S 
M w th the ghostly reflection of dead dayUght , thei^ffie 
^h^TJ" "■* "'^""P °' heeohes that topped an emineic? 
with blacJmem Vanghan sat* beside IsaTwhite in the 
carnage which Sir Robert had sent for him Tand l^W 
cnnonshr forth on the demesne which wonld be his if heTJ 
rf v^rffw T M eve his eyes. Was the X To y so J^ 
tL^^ ^' ''* "'■■'i^'^y illuminated his windows? Or was 

Sn7 FltS^ '^"" 1'"^.^o™'>' parties,*fnU from' attic to 

Yet Le^^n? °'" "" '''^'°°' .""'' «««™d »» nnlikfily thing! 
ret every window, yes, every window had its light I 

He was too prond to question the agent, who bis errand 
done and h« mess^e defivered. showeS no des°Ve to Wk 
^Z.^^T'^'J^V^J '° 'he course of their short ^ml 
S?w^' 'P,I'°^-''™- ^"^ '^''ght White looking at him wkh 
Bomethmg hke pity m his eves. And though tie yonn^ man 

tw w/v""" '?i"¥- *■?■* ^'"«« him-he thongraikely 
i^tJ'^'*i,'l'h h>» inborn reverence for Sir Robert dc- 
^tjf "". T-° ^" '"'^'' his displeasnre-iUIosed hU lip^ 
™-n at^rA''?' ^'?'*^ ."' "" »° P^-l servant, bat a k^^^.' 
Sta Porhfc ,^°d he would ha^Sir Robert remember 
™if;, w ^ ' P*!*' he was not going to forget that a Ch^- 
oeliOT l»d stooped to flatter him, and a Cabilet Minifter C 
offered him a seat. After that, and when he had Sd hr 
a point of honour, a bait that few would have rdected he wm 
not going to be browbeaten by an old gentleman whom ttl 
ISO 



LESS THAN A HERO ,51 

^«wf w^i^S'P^Tli """""^ ^}'^'^< "'''«« prejudices, whose 
IfZl^^ °^ JMterday, and who, in his profound ignorance 

as Illegal OS the Dispensing Power 

n« S^* '^°""'" 5' ,'T ""^ »"'»«« "topped «' 'he door. 
Ue alighted and ascended the steps. 

w„.I!lfM^Hi™?1''^.*° T^^ K°od the outside promise. It 
Ziv^ riV'^'^i'*'' C".^ '^'^'"'l ^"PP ""d the servant who 
i^Mli™^ Vaughan had a glimpse of three or four servanta 
n J.^7^^ i'J^'y- Z™."" '^e dining-room on his left issued 
p-als of laughter, and voices so clear that, though he had not 
the smallest reason to suspect his presence, he was sure that 
he caught among them Bob Flixton's tones. The discovery 
was not pleasing; but Mapp, turning the other way and 
pving him no time to think, went before him to the suite of 
state-rooms on the right of the haU, which he had not seen in 
Tr.nT^ ^t° "l"*^ '° ■"" "fe- ^' "n"'' be so, then-he 

wluch graced the walls of the drawing-rooms reflected the soft 
light of a multitude of candles, wood fires burned and crackled 
on tUe hearths, the Morning ChronicU, the Quarttrly, and 
other signs of hfe lay on the round tables, and an air of 
cheerfnl bimseanu pervaded all. What did it mean ? 

Sir Eobert has finished dinner, sir," Mapp said ; even he 
seemed to wear an unusual air of solemnity. " He will be 
with you, sir, immediately. Hope yon are well, sir?" he 
continued, unbending a little. 

" Quite well, Mapp, thank you." 

Then he was left alone, to wonder if a second surprise 
awaited him. Pybus had supplied him with one that day. If 
a serond were in store for him, what was its natnre ? Could 
Sir Robert, on his side, be going to oiler him a seat— if he 
would recant ? He hoped not. But he had not time to givo 
more than a thought to this before he heani footsteps and 
voices crossing the hall. The next moment there enter^ the 
outer room— at such a distance from the hearth on which he 
stood that he had a leisurely view of all before they 
reached him— three persons. First came a tall burly man 
m slovenly evening clothes, with an ungainly rolling walk. 
After him came Sir Eobert himself, and after him again, 
Isaac White. ^ ' 



15* 



CHIPPINGE 



k, .l!"i?^" »d«nced a step or two, and Sir Robert t>»»l 
at Mice flatby and melancholy. The baronet feld out hta 

.ifi!'^*^w "0' qnwwlled yet, Mr. Vanghan " he uid 
witha oordiahtywhicl took Vanghan by inrS' «I S 
and believe that we are not going to qST' I hM Tn 

nave asked to be present at our interview." ' ^' 

eyebrows °"* °"'° "^^ ^'"'8'""' *'°^ ""^er his bnshy 

yol on tlf olstn/."^ " ""^ '*''"^- " ' -« ^•""i^en^Jo 

PaSarf ^«S^ '■'?"?'^ '''■"• '"'•I the incident in 
™e mS?; ^,S>''«^""»'e°t^yn.pathy. But he wondered 

had an offer to make to him? He h^\^.^^'-''^*^*'*^ 

wishesV' * y"" ^""^ y°" compliance with my 

to uZu^ """'""'*^ ^^^ ^' ^ "O""* "' "o inconveu^ence 

^^^Crol,:^g-Sfe.i nf \S ^^ 



LESS THAN A HERO ijj 

Vaughan looked keenly at him j and an observer would 
nave noticed that there was a closer likeness between the two 
men than the slender tie of blood warranted. 

"If It is a question, Sir Robert," he said slowly, "of the 
subject on which we differed last evening, I would prefer 

1 would certamlv prefer, to say at once " 

"Don't I " Wetherell, who was seated within a lonir reach 
of him, grunted. "Don't I" And he laid an elephantine 
and not over-clean hand on Vaughan's knee. " You can snill 
words as easy as water," he continued, "and they are a* hud 
to pick np again. Hear what Vermnyden has to sav. and 
what I ve to say— 'tisn't much— and then blow your trumpet 
If yon ve any breath left I " he added sotto voce, as he threw 
himself back. 

Vaughan hesitated a moment. Then, " Veiy good," he 

said, "if you will hear me afterwards. But " 

"But and If are two wenches always raising trouble 1 " 
wethereU cned in his coarse fashion. " Do yon listen, Mr. 
vaughan. Do yon listen. Now, Vermuyden, go on." 

But Sir Robert did not seem to have words at. command. 
He took a pinch of snuff from the gold box he held ; and he 
opened his month to resume ; but he hesitated. At length. 
What I have to tell yon, Mr. Vaughan," he said, in a voio^ 
more diffident than usual, " had perhaps been more properly 
told bv my attorney to yonis. 1 admit that," dusting the 
snnff from his fnll. "And it would have been so told, but 
if~i. exigencies not immediately connected with it, 

which are nevertheless so pressing as to— as to induce me to 
take the one step unmediately possible. Less regular, but im- 
mediately possible 1 All the same, yon will believe, I am sure, 
that I do not wish to take any advantage of you other than "— 
he paused with a look at WethereU— " other than that which 
my position gives me. For the rest I "—he looked again at 

his snuff-box and hesitated-" I think— I " 

• "J°^'^ '^"*'" '"'™e ^ "»e point I " WethereU growled 
, TMtiently, jerking hw ungainly person back in his chair, 
the point, maul Or shaU I tell him ? " 
Sir Robert straightened himself with a sigh of relief. " If 
you please," he said. " I think you had better. It— it may 
come better from you, as you are not interested." 

yanghan looked from the one to the other, and wondered 
What on earth they would be at. His cordial reception. 



»54 



CHIPPINGE 



^W^^be nothing to hin>. And yet-bnt VTHhZl ^'^ 

Whan .> '''"'"^""'' ■*" ** ''•"«'»'«'• JoJ<^orJ^Z 

takenlwmri^'j''^ '•F^o'-Jy »«»« hi. waistcoat, but, 
" Then— „"«"»«'»" angwered bluntly. 
" He bag a daughter." 

wpidly over the facta-that the thing could Kue I The 



LESS THAN A HERO 155 

Sir Bobert, too, had riien to hii feet. Bnt it vu Wotherell 
who uMwend hhn. 

If "if f ""P? '2 ' " •" ?'*'• " ^"^'^ I «''"»■' '*. young lir I 
It will have to be proved. But " -" e 

"It ahonld have been told to them rather than to me I " 
Vanghan repeated with a sparkling eye. And ho turned as if 
ne were determined to treat them as hostile and to have nothing 
fnrther to »ay to them. •* 

.. » ^n'ye^ore" 'topped him. " Stay, yonng man I " he said. 
And be ashamed of yourself I You forget youreelf I " And 
Deroro Vanghan, stung and angiy, could retort upon him, " You 
forget, he continued, " that this tenches another as closely as it 
touches yoa— and more closely I Yon are a gentleman, sir, and 
Bir Kcberts kinsman. Have yon no word, then, for him ?" 
pointing, with a gesture roughly eloquent, to his host. " Yon 
lose, but have yon no word for him who gains ? Yon lose, but 
IS It nothing to him that he finds himself childless no longer, 
heirless no longer? That his house is no longer lonely, his 
hewth no longer empty I Man alive," he added, dropping 
witb honest indignation to a lower note, "yon lose, but whnt 
does he not gain ? And have yon no word, no generous 
thought for him ? Bah I " throwing himsolf book in lis seat. 
Foor human nature 1 " 
"Still it must be proved," Vaughan answered snllenly: 
though m his heart he acknowledged the truth of the man's 
reproach. 

" Granted I " Wetherell retorted. " But will yon not hear 
what It 18 that has to be proved? It so, sit down, sir, sit 
flown, and hear hke a man what we have to tell yon. Will 
yon do that ?• he continued in a tone of exasperation, which 
Uid but reflect the slowly hardening expression of Sir Robert's 
lace, " or are von quite a fool ? " 

Vaughan hesitated, looking with angry eyea at Wetherell. 
.ifw Pv-"?* ^°^- "■^■n I to understand," he said coldly, 
that this is news to Sir Robert ? " 
" It was news to him vesterday." 

Vanghan bowed, and was silent; aware that a more 
generous demeanour would become him better, but unable to 
oompass it on the spnr of the moment. He was ignorant— 
nnfortunately— of the spuit in which he had been summoned ; 
oonseqnently he could not guess that every word he uttered 
rang churhshly in the ears of his listeners. He was not a 



«s< 



CHIPPINGE 



|i 



t^ Ln^''* "'•• t^sn n°'«riy. « it Momed to him. And 

^.Skfi " '*~ ""'"''• But .gain 4« 

-."• ,°. *^^ ^°^ '""» '•»• beginning what w« know " h« 
^1^ ^, n'.'^ctoly way. " ^ „, f^ll^t St Robert 
f T t'ri" '•'V^' ^<*' *■» •' not ? Ym, in the Tear -10 
who^^' iL«dr/ermnyden bo™ him one child. a-Chter! 
who died in Italy w the year '16. It appean now— we bm in 
a po.,tion to prove. I th'ink-that thaf ^d did not d,'^ S 

iS'd'rbe"?Jear ' '"' ^ "•"' •"'-' " - "■- -""'^ 
.11 y*"**""" eonghed. '• ThU ii atrange newi," he laid " after 
•"'^«*„y««"-. >°<l«>mewhatMdden.i,not?" * 
.»,.„M "Oberts face grew harder, bat WethereU •hmned his 
!«Tw"- il" ^'"i'."' "»ten."he wplied, "yon w§f know 
^ nM^^'Tw • ^iu" '"' '«7«'' "* "V «*« in thii room ,T 
had i^S^V^*"^'" '""I'^f' ." S" Egbert fancied that he 
ftad reaion to be giarely displdaied with Lady VermnTden 

Jr,5^c^^''bf''» ?y''«''"«nd8^h«t a betterl^fing Zft 
JflWd^a ?,«J^I"P°r'"^Jl^P'i;"*'2?' ""^ tbecl^ld'8 health 
VeZ^H^n?r» i--.'*f°'1"'#'y ^" Robert Buffered Lady 
IJ^A^ ^A '" **'* " ?S?°»^' l"" ""te consiating of a courier 
a maid, and a nnnw. The nnrse she aent back td Enriand not 
^"8 "fterwaid^ on the plea that an iS womin from 
InThif I tL"^^.'/*^° ""^ ^"gnage. wouWr-betr 
MwiS"" nnffl *^*\'^' >ho acted bondjide. But in other 
Iffhir tt* S°' ^"5 '=^^'"' " *'«' oonlnct wa. ouch aa to 
b: ^ u i ''nsband ; and in terms, perhaps too peremntorv 

Saleath." '^'''' "*■ """= "nnonnoement of the 

Veri^uln^'id r •' "°' '^''•" '^'^'^ '^^^' " " 1-^^ 
"We have this evidence. But first let me say that Sir 

The H-nSditd' r^'P*; •''J5\"«'^ »e"ont for ud/o^L^ 
ami h.^^*^ Days stopped him j he could not crbis PrZc 
the otLrirH Vfr' '*'*"?^» '•>» «l^W» death. On' 
Well JhL f ^"■a'^ no snspfdon, no reason for suspicion, 
to did «Sh ^1,.*"'^'""? ^,'*' '**'* not die. The ^nrie; 
w dead, and there remains only the maid. She is alive, she 



LESS THAN A HERO 



•57 



ja here, she ii in tliis houio. And it is from hor that wo havo 
loornod tho trnth." 

lie paused moment, broodinsr ttolidlj ou tlio pottorn of 
tbo carpet bctwean hU foot. Sir Robert, with a face grown 
vory bard, sat nprislit, ligtoning to tho tale of hii misfortunes 
—and ((onbf.lcss sullored torments as ho list'.-nod. 

'■Her story," Wcthorcll resumed, "is this. Lady Vcr- 
mnydf n was living; at that time a life of the wildest gaiety ; 
she Iiid M affection for the child ; if the woman is to bo 
believed, she hated it. To part with it was nothing to litr, 
one way or fhe other ; and on receipt of Sir Robert's order 
to return, her ladyship conceived the idea of punishing him, 
by abducting the child and telling him it was dead. She set 
out from Florence for Rome ; on tho way she left it at Orvicto 
m charge of tho Italian nurae, and, arriving in Rome sho put 
abaut the story of its death. Shortly afterward' oho iimi k 
convoyed to Lngland and bred up in an establialiment uivr 
liondon— always with the aid and connivance of ha- nuid." 

" The maid's name ? " Vaughan asked. 

" Herapath— Martha Horapath. But to proceed. Dy- 
nnd-by Lady Vermnyden returned to Enghind, and settled at 
Rrighton, and the maid left her and married, but continued to 
draw a pension from her. Lady Vermuyden persisted, in the 

company of Lady Convng but I need name no names— 

in the same coarse of giddiness, if no worse, which she had 
pursued abroad ; and gave little heed if any, to tho child. 
But this woman Herapath never forgot that the pension she 
enjoyed was dei>endent on hor power to prove the trnth ; and 
when a short time back the girl, now fully grown, was with- 
drawn from her knowledge, she grew restive. She sought 
Lady ycrmnyden, always a creature of impulse ; and when her 
ladyship, foolish in this as in all things, refused to meet her 
views, she came to us," lifting his head abruptly and looking 
at Vaughan, " and told us the story." 

" It will have to be proved," Vaus;han said stubbornly. 

"No doubt," Wetherell replied, "strictly proved. In tho 
mean time, if yon wonld like to peruse the facts in greater 
detail, they are here, as taken down from the woman's mouth." 
He drew from his capacious breast-pocket a manuscript con- 
sisting of several sheets. Ho unfolded it and flattened it on 
his knee. He handed it to Vaughan. 

The young man took it, mechanically ; and, with his 



158 



CHIPPINGE 



thoughts m a whirl, read it line after line without taking in a 
MDgle word. For all the time his brain was at work measurine 
the ohMge. His modest competence would be left to him. 
He wonld have enough to live as he was now living, and to 
pursue bis career ; or, in the alternative, he might settle down 
as a poor sqmre in his paiemal home in South Walei. But 
the great inhentanco which had loomed in the background of 
his life, and had been more to him than be had admitted, the 
future dignities which be bad undervalued while he tboueht 
them certain, the position more enviable than many a pew's 
and higher by its traditions than any to which he could ittain 
by his own exertions though he reached the woolsack— these 
wre gone. If WethereU's tale was true. Gone in a moment, 
at a word I And though he might have lost more, though 
many a man bad lost his all by such a stroke and siiled, he 
could not on the instant smile. He could not in a mraient 
oust a^l bitterness. He knew that he was taking the news 
unworthUy ; that he was playing a poor part. But he could 
not force himself to play a better— on the instant. When he 
had read with unseemg eyes to the bottom of the first page, 
and had turned it, he let the papers fall upon his knee. 

Yob do not wish me," he said slowly, "to express an 
opinion now— I suppose ? " r ™> »u 

'• No," Wetherelf answered. « Certainly not. But 1 ', ^ve 
not qnito done. I have not quite done," he repeated. "I 
should teU yon that, for opening the matter to yon now-we 
have two reasons, Mr. Vaughan. Two. Pint, we think it 
due to yon, as one of the family. Secondly, Vermuyden 
desires that from the beginning his intentions shaU be clear 
and — be understood. 

"I thoroughly understand them," Vanghan replied 
tlrvly. ^,0 one was more conscious than he that he wag 
bchavmg ill. 

„ ''^''"f, " ^'"' ^'"'' ^°^ "J" no"" WethereU retorted. 
Yon spUl words, young man, and by-and-by yon will wish to 
picK tuem up. Yon cannot anticipate, at any rate yon have 
no right to anticipate Sir Robert's intentions, of which he has 
asked me to be the mouthpiece. The estate, of course, and 
the settled funds must go to bis daughter. But there is a 
large sum arising from the economical management cf the 
property, which is at his disposal. He feels," WethereU con- 
tinued sombrely, an elbow on each knee and his eyes on (he 



LESS THAN A HERO 



159 
00, and ke 



floor, "that Bome injiutioe has been done to 
deeires to compensate you for that injustice. Ue proposes, 
therefore, to secure to you the succession to two-thirds of this 
sum; which amounts — which amounts, in the whole, I be- 
lieve " — he looked at White— " to little short of eighty 
thoasand pounds." 

Vanghan, who had been more than once on the point of 
interrupting him, did so now. 

" I could not accept it I " he exclaimed impnlsively. And 
he rose, with a hot face, from his seat. " I could not accept it." 

" As a legacy ? " Wetherell, who was said to be fond of 
money, returned with a queer look. " As a legacy, eh ? Why 
not?" YfUle Sir Robert, with compressed Bpg, repented of 
his generosity. He had looked for some show of good feeling, 
gome word of sympathy, some felicitation from the yonng 
man, who after all was his blood relation. But it his return 
was to be of this sort, if his advances were to be met with 
suspicion, his benevolence with churlishness, then all, all in 
this young man was of a piece — and detestable I 

And certainly Vaughan was not showing himself in the 
best light. But he could not change his attitnde in a moment. 
Under no circumstances is it easy to take a gift with grace : 
to take one with grace under these circumstances, and when he 
had already misbehaved, was beyond him. As it would have 
been beyond most men. 

For a moment, drawn this way by his temper, that way by 
his better feelings, he did not know now to answer Wcthcrell's 
last words. At length and hmely — 

"Mav I ask," he said, "why Sir Eobert makes me this 
offer — while the matter lies open ? " 

"Sir Robert will prove his case," Wetherell answered 
gruffly, " it that is what you mean." 

"Imean " 

" He does not ask you to surrender anything." 

Vaughan melted. 

"I am bound to say, then," he replied, speaking with 
warmth, "that the offer is very generous, most generous! 
But " 

" He asks yon to surrender nothing," Wetherell repeated 
stolidly, his face between bis knees. 

" But I still think it premature," Vaughan persisted. 
" And handsome as it is, more than handsome as it is, I think 



i6o 



CHIPPINGE 



i 
, ( 



that it would come with greater force, were my position first 
made clear I " 

" May he," Wetherell said, his face still hidden. " I don't 
deny that." 

" As it is," Yatighan continned, with a deep breath, " I am 
taken by Eniririse. I do not know wluit to say. I find it hard 
to say anything — in the first flush of the matter." And 
he looked from one to the other. " So, for the present, with 
Sir Robert's permission, and without any slight to his genc- 
roeity, I will take leave. If he is good enough to repeat in 
the future thia.»%ry handsome — this uncalled-for and generous 
offer which hec^ outlined, I shall know, I hope, what is due 
to him, without forgetting what is due to myself. In the 

mean time I can only acknowledge it, and " 

^ But the belated congratulation, which was on his lips and 
which might have altered many things, was never uttered. 

" One moment 1 " Sir Robert struck in, " one moment I " 
He spoke with a hardness bom of long-suppressed irritation. 
" Yon have taken your stand, Mr. Vaughan, strictly on the 

defensive " 

" But I think you understand " 

" Strictly on the defensive," the baronet repeated, requiring 
silence by a gesture. " You mnst not be surprised, tlierefore, 
if I also gay a word on a point which touches me." 

" I wouldn't I " Wetherell growled m bw deep voice. And 
for an instant he railed bis huge fate, and looked stolidly at 
the wall before Um. 

But Sir Bobert was not to be bidika. " I think other- 
wire," be said. " Mr. Vaughan, the election to-morrow touches 
me very nearly — in more ways than one. The vote you have, 
yon received at my hands, and hold only as my heir. I take 
It for granted, therefore, that under the present circnmstances 
you will use it as I desire." 

" Oh I " Vaughan said. And he removed his eyes from the 
one to the other with a singular smile. " Oh I " he repeated — 
and there was a world of meaning in his tone. " Am I to 

understand " 

" I have made myself quite clear," Sir Robert cried, his 
manner betraying his agitation. 

' Am I to understand," Vaughan repeated, " that the offer 
wbich you made a few minutes back, the generous and hand- 
some offer," he continued, with a faint note of irony in his 



LESS THAN A HERO ,6, 

SdSsta^d'thr?"" ""' •"• "^ '^''^'"^ """"O™" ? Am I to 

Jf ^onr own sense of hononr does not ^•c.SL to yon W 

" But do yon put it so I " 

" Do yon mean " 

"I mean," Vanghan said, "does the offer den-nd nn tl,. 
^oj^make of my vote to-morrow? Tbat'L 'r^i"?, 'si? 

"No," Wctherell muttered indistinctly 
But again Sir Robert would not be bidden. "I will hn 
frank," he said. " And my answer is, Yes Yes ! plr T T^ 

not conceive I eannot coneeive, sir, that a «ntlem„ would Lt^ 
so great a benefit, and refuse so slight a^rdraT A 1™? 
too, which, apart from this offer, mort men-—" ""*' 

H„ llt^/^KJ""^^'' '■?P"<^^- " That is clear enough " 
He glanced from the one to the other with the loot nf rS,. 

company " Now I understand," he continued. " I seT now 
why the offer which a few minutes ago seemed «o ™*w^!l 
^ stj^ngely n:.mat„r., was made thlf ^v^ To-Sw^t 
n^'iriVr^S^f"' Myvotehadb.nUandT^'^lk' 

" yI'^'J^' " Sir Robert cried, red with anger. 
Yes, bribed, sir. But let me tell yon," Taughan went on 
alowmg the bitterness which he hadWn Sg to apLa?' 
"let me tel you, Sir Robert, that if not only m| futuKt 
my present, if my all were at st«ke-I should'rSeVt sudi an 
offer as an insult. '«>oui, bulu an 

Sir Robert took a step towards the bell and stopped. 
'An insult I" VaugW repeated firmly. " AS^eat an 

ana onerea you,8ir Kobert, here m your own house, a ueeraffe 
conditional on your support of the Bill I " peerage 

"A peerage?" Sir Robert's eyes seemed to be starting 
from his head. "A peerage I Conditional on ny-- " = 
whin), , "J^' <=°°°"''ona' on 7onr renunciation of those opinions 

r^^Jr »?''-^ ^ ^°}^ ■« I '""'^'"'y hold mine I " vSan 
repeated. " I will make the offer if /on wish it." 

11 



••» CHIPPING* 

Wetherell roee poadeiomly. See here I " be aaid. " Lutai 
to me, will yon, yon two 1 Yoo, Vermnyden, m wefi as the 
yonni; man. Yon will boWi be iorry for what yon are aaying 
now ! D— d Borry 1 Listen to me 1 liiten to me, mm 1 " 

But the baronet waa already tngging at the beU-repe. He 
was white with rage, and not withont reaaon. Thia whipper- 
snapper, this pettifoggjag lad, jnat out of his teens, to talkto 

him of peerages, to patroaize him, to o£Fer him — to — to 

For a moment ne stammered and conld not naak At 
last — 

" Enough ! Enough, sir, leave my house 1 " he cried 
shaking from head to foot with twssion, and losing, for the' 
first time in many years, his self-control. " Leave my house," 
he repeated, " and never set foot in it again ! Not a pound 
and not a penny will you hnve of mine 1 Never ! Never i 
Never 1 " 

Vanghan smiled, " Very good. Sir Eobert," he said, shrug- 
ging his shonlden. " Yonr fortune is yonr own. But " 

" Begone, sir 1 Not another word, but go 1 " 
Yanglian raised his eyebrows, bowed in a ceremonions 
faahion to Wetherell, and nodded to White, who stood petrified 
and gaping. Then he walked slowly through that room and 
toe next, and with one backward smile — TanJJshed. 

And this time, as he passed through the hall, narrowly 
missing Plixton, who was leaving the dining-room, there conld 
be no doubt that the breach was complete, that the small cor- 
diality which had existed between the kinsmen was at an end. 
The Bill, which had played so many mischievous tricks, severed 
so many friends, broken the ties of so many years, had dealt 
no one a more spiteful blow than it had dealt Arthur Tanghan. 



CHAPTEE XVII 

THB CaiPPINOB EtECTTOJI 

repeat day wag come. Before night the borowh of 
Chjppmge most give its vote for reform or no reform t^rnha 
of the few or the rale of th« many ; and in the law Cn on 

Tl« J^f ** 1^,"^ '*" ""»' interested in the issue 
J^LIT^- "T'l.'' •""•« P'«<^ «' ">« three windTws 
en pyed a view of what was goioR forward in the spaw below 1 
bnt It was noticeable that while the two or three wto remah.^' 
m the b<«=kground talked and joked, these were silent CftW 
because the nproar withont made hearing difficult TChour 
ZH^k''" busmes, of the day w« to come, but aS 
the hubbub was md^ibablo. Nor was this all. Every mS 
Tn"?^ ^r'''" " ""'"''^'■^'"•ing cabbage-stalk, or a dKtIS 
Toj colours, rose to a level with the windows, hov^rand 
»mk-amid a storm of groans or cheers. For the meet wrt 
the«, musiles fell harmless. But that the places of "roufat 
^nnT'^t? r'L""' "''°"y P''<=™ °f ^'^f-'ty was provTby a 

Nearly all who had attended the Vermnydes dinner were 
in the room. But things which had worn one a3 a^S^ 

had made light of the shov ng and maulim? and HrnlLhin™ 
through which they had forced^heir wTto fhe^g'o<^™th5 
before them , they had even made a jest of the bit of a rub thfv 
were likely to have on the polling day. Now the s iTht of th« 
noisv crowd which filled the ope/spsii, from the Zd of the 
nigt Street to the wall of the Abb^and from the Vineyari 
mt of ,t, almost to the West Port, m=ile their bones a^he Th^ 
h! K 'il™" '''«.''0'4««', «t o"* aiother. The heart of Dewelf 
the barber, was m his shoes ; the Rector stared aghast and 
■63 



■1! 



164 



CHIPPINGE 



Mowatt, tho barrister, Arthnr Tangban'a ill-fonnd friend, 
wished for once that lie wag on the vulgar side. 

True, tho doors of the White Lion were goarded by a 
sturdy pbalanz of Vermnyden lads; nmatered with what 
difficulty, ard kept together by what arguments. White best 
knew. But what were two or three score, however faithful 
and however strong, against the hundreds and thousands who 
swayed and cheered and groaned before the inn ; who swarmed 
upon the old town cross until they hid every inch of the 
crumbling stonework ; who clung to every niche and bnttrees 
of the Abbey, and from whose mass up, from a sea the solitary 
church spire rose as rises some lighthouse cut off by the 
breakers ; who now, forgetful of their Wiltshire birth, cheered 
the Birmingham tub-thumper to the echo, and now roared 
stern assent to the wildest statements of the Political Union ? 

Tme, a dozen banners and thrice as many flags gave some 
show of festivity to the scene. But the timid, who set out 
to draw solace from these, retreated, appalled by the daring 
•' Death or Freedom I " inscribed 'on one banner, or the scarcely 
less bold " Tho Sovereign People " which bellied above the 
clothiets. Granted, the majority of the placards bore nothing 
worse than the watchword of the party, " The Bill, the whole 
Bill, and nothing but the Bill ! " or " Retrenchment and 
Beform ! " or— in reference to the King—" God bless the two 
Bills I " But for all that, Dewell the barber— and some more 
who would not have confessed it— wished the day well over 
and no bones broken. A great day for Chippinge ; but a day 
on which many aa old score was like to be paid, many a 
justice to hear the commonalty's opinion of him, many a man 
who had thriven under the old rale to read the writing on the 
wall 1 

Certainly nothing like the spectacle visible from the 
White Lion windows had been seen in Chippinge within 
living memory. The Abbey— which had seen the last of the 
mitred Abbots pass out, shorn of his strength, and with weep- 
ing townsfolk m his train in lien of belted knights— that pile, 
stately in its ruin, which had witnessed a revolution more 
tragic than this which impended — might have viewed its pair, 
might have seen its precincts seetfie as they seethed now. But 
no living man. Nor did those who scanned the crowd find 
aught in its details to lessen its terrors. There were indeed 
plenty of decent, respectable people in the throng who, though 



THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION ,65 

man of every dissenter within ten mUes with tt'n „t f£ 
hree apothecaries who were in tlie game cage. Ih^ wTt^i I 

the mu8 hke yeast, moT«d a sir* of bUteriStert^ X" 

?;f ;."S « is.Ti.-s'S'Si 

grew longer as the« owners gazed and listened. 
K.„i i * " ■ ™°r "''^'^ ''O'"^ to 'he people I " the Eeetor 
•^Efthr?'"^ '""°' *" °^"' ''^^» '^^•'7 bis dauSr' 
"I'd like to see Lord Grey hanged I" answered Sanire 

What do yon say, sir ? " to Serjeant Wathen. 

_ fortunate a show of hands don't carrr it 1 " the R-^rit^nt 
cr.ed,^hrag^ „g his shonlders with an J74L 'o^^iZ 

wrathfX' "I .?L T y.'^'^y i' ' " "« Squire replied 
wrathfnlly. I suppose two and two stiU make foor I " 

Isaac WhU« wfio was whispering with a man in a comer 

SL f l^'!;,"*-''''^ I' T ""«' °f 'l-*' ! "'. ""h", that tS^ 
and two made su. But the Squire was continuing. ™""'"' 



i66 



CHIPPINGE 



" Ball 1 " he cried in diaguat. " OiiA these people Tdtci ? 
Look at 'emt Look at 'em, sir I Votei, indeed I Yotet, 
indeed I Give 'cm oaliDm, I aay I " 

He forgot that iii le-tenthi of thoie below were as good an 
the Toten at his elbow, who were presently to retnm two 
memben for Chippinge. Or rather, it did not occur to him, 
old T017 at he wai, and convinced, 

" Twu the Jicobiiu brought every DiKhief »bont," 
that Dewell's vote was Dewell's, or Annibal'e Annibal'e. 

Meanwhile, " I wish we were safe at the bnitingi 1 " vonnir 
Mowatt (hooted in the ear of the li.iui who stood in front of 
him. 

The man chanced to be Coo!>'. the second candidate. He 
tamed. 

" At the hnstings ? " he said irascibly. " Do yon mean, 
sir, that we are expected to fight onr way through this 
rabble ? " 

" I am afraid we mnst," Kowatt answered. 

"Then it— it has been d— — d badly arranged I " retorted 
the outraged Oooke, who never forgot that as he paid well for 
his seat it ongbt to be a soft one. "60 through this mob 
and have onr heads broken ? " ' 

The foces of those who could hear him grew long. " And 
it wants only five minutes to ten," complained a third. " We 
ought to be going now." 

" D n me, but suppose they don't let us go ! " Cooke 

cried. " Badly arranged I I should thmk it is, sur I D d 

badly arranged I The hnstings should have been on this 
side." 

But as the hustings at Chippinge had been hitherto a 
matter of form, it had not occurred to any one to alter their 
poaition— cheek by jowl with the Whig headquarters, but 
divided by fifty yards of seething mob from the White 
Lion. However, White, on an appeal being made to him, 
put a better face on the matter. 

" It's all right, gentlemen," he said, " it's all right I If 
they have the hustings, we have the returning officer, and 
they can do nothing without ns. I've seen 1&. Pybua, and 
I have his safe-condact for our party to go to the hustings." 

But it is hard to satisfy everybody, and at this there "was 
• fresh outcry. 



THB CKIPPmGE ELECTIOK ,6, 

•' Neyer was gnch a thing heard of 1 " 

with ^t"" "*'"* "" •""'' *° *''*"'»'•" ■«^i'« «tort«d 
" Whew ii Sir Bobert ? " 

S.tlt'l:^ t^ election ^ not a. oth"r Kotl °Ch wi 
lost, It was known, and Bristol, too, it wag whisoered • th« 
CMnt^ was gone mad. And w, frowning and aiXt^t thi 
tr^"?g:^°l''±i'^ '^,^^'^ be^Tl^e^Und 
Ald»^- JS'trere^lnoXr'd^^Sg TJ^L'^" 

th«,V°.mfi/""' *''*'^ *•*' 1*^7 ''M reinforced bv a crowd of 
^whSd:"P^"'"' " """ P'""'^'^ White'Jri^Tand 

wi^'R:teU;.t''LtKV ^^tt^f^'fw^? 

"No, and Pillinger'i well enonffh to come if vou nnt it 
'^7i.^^"^ "' »>«wif..and'^th;VeTot hLWand 



White oast a despairing eye on the confusion about 



him. 



•rts 



CHIPPINGE 



" How can I come ? " he mnttered. " I mint eet tbeH to tie 
poll flnt;." 

"Then yon'll never do it," the mu rrtorted. "There'll 
DO no coming and goin(( to-day, Mr. White, yon take it from 
nie. Now'g the time, while they're wailing for yon in front 
Yon can ilip out at the back, and bring him in and take him 
with you. It'i the only woy, to help me I They're in that 
temper we'll be lucky if we're all alive to-morrow." 

The man waa right, and White knew it, yet he hesitated. 
If be had had an aide fit for the taak, the thing might be done. 
But to go bimielf, on whom everything fell 1 Ho reflected. 
FoMibly Arthur Vaughan might not vote for the enemy after 
all. But if he did. Sir Robert would poll five to «ii, and bo 
beaten, unless be polled Pillinger ; when the returning officer'* 
vote, of which he was sure, would give him the election. 
Fillinger's vote, therefore, was vital j everything turned npon 
it i and White determined to go. His absence would only 
cause a little delay, and be must risk that. He slipped away. 

He was missed at once, and (he discovery redoubled the 
TOnfusion. One asked where he was, and another where Sir 
Bobert was ; while Cooke, in tones louder and more irritable 
than was prudent, found frtsb fault, and wished to Heaven 
that he had never seen the place. AccuHtomed to one-sided 
contests of which both parties know the issue, the Tory 
managers were helpless ; they were aware that the hour had 
struck, and that they were expected, but without White they 
were uncertain how to act. Some cried that the agent had 
gone on, and that they should follow ; some that Sir Bobert 
was to meet them at the hustings, others that they might as 
well be at home as waiting there ; while the babel without 
deafened and distracted them, and at last, without order given, 
they found themselves moving out. 

Their reception did not dear their brains. Snch a roar 
as greeted them had never been heard in Chippinge. The 
hau- on Dewell the barber's head stood up, the AJderman's 
cheek grew pale, even Cooke droppet' his cane, the stoutest 
flinched. Changed indeed were thj times from those not 
distant ones, when their exit had been greeted by sycophantic 
cheers, or, at the worst, by a little good-hnmoured jesting 1 
Now the whole multitude in the open, not in one part, but in 
every part, knew as by instinct of their setting forth, bran- 
dished on the instant a thousand arms, deafened them with a 



THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION, ,6, 

miT^ljA f^T^'--^ monotODOUily "The Bill! The 
Bill I Nor had the demorutration stopped there, bnt for tho 

Sm^'h* » T "o-n"^ memben. do more electiorthot 
Cr1nnl« nT'' "*"'' '"'? ,»»d "<> •hwe in them, no mo» 
HS'ge, ""^ ^°'" ' ^'"' ^•"''* "'«'" "eree with 

" i!"' ^J* Pf'"" '»' ">"^g Iwd come In of Ule 
BiDoe the nbble all tried for a roloa in the 8t»to," 

and foretell the ruinoM outcome of it But the thini: wug, 
the many-headed the many-handed had them in iU J*n. 
They mju^ go meekly, or not at all , with vieiom. of filh-I^S 
andguHlotme. be ore their eye,, and wondering, m^t of th^ 
-as they tried to show a bold front, tried to wave tS 
banners and give gome answerin- shout to the sea which teat 
ngo^^them-Lw they would re,'Hin their hom^wi?h whofc 

tho,^^!"'? ''T T °°]y,°°« ^^° ^^ not "toop to that 
cantion taken for hu safety. That was Sir Bobert himself 
from Bristol to see the fnu— and whose voi^ it win hTri 

the White Lio^ fZ"?),''^ """'^ 8"^^ •>« ^ «'"«'*3 
lUX, K » °° 1°"" ""8 "»"■> "rriving n time to full in 

Tth^e nn^'P"**^ ""n^^ ""?!»'*«"'' Pf«=ipitation. a? the tSl 
crowH 1,?^"'"°; ^^^l '"'""*'" ''« W" recognised by the 
Moleer I •T/r''^n'i\''. ~" °^ " ^°'"» ^'th the Borough" 
Z.Zf A *"' "PP»"*^ '^ companions. Bnt he faced it 
rffl^r"°Pf.""fe5'y' ;litc:e7aler,a littlo prondt^and 
hi 1 .^°*' ""? '¥'"*' ''"' ^'tfu gleam in tis eyes that 
had not been seen in them for year*. For answer, he Lued ; 

™i„^L »K?'"'l,'*"* V'V",' a» """"t " any tour in his life, he 
wh^,?r^ this hour, which put him to the test before those over 
A^T.,t^^ ""^^ ?°.'°?S- His caste might be passing, the 
days of hu power might be numbered, the waves ofdem^racy 



a. 



MIOIOCOPY MSOUJTION TIST CHART 

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 



i£ 


E 


■ SB •^^ IIII^H 

Hi 1£ 12.2 

If la "™ 


If^ 




1 ,. 1^ 

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1 '-25 


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^ /1PPLIED IM^GE Inc 

Sr ie53 East Main Slr««t 

r.S RochMtar, New York 14609 liM 

^= (71fi) 402 - 0300 - Phona 

S (716) 288- 5989 -Fa. 



170 



CHIPPINGE 



So^p!fi?'^-f^",'- *-\V^^ in which he believed the 

Notete^of ??P ^.'''i,*"" •'"'."""' "'''"^'J "^ Wm falter! 
i>o Tewran of the old nohleut in days which Sir Rnhort <v«,u 

««n^ll'*''**T°°™ ""''"'^8> I'M f««'MS bearing, impressed 
even the crowif ; appreciative, at bottom, of coSC^ And 

,C^'^} l^''^ ^^ 'r«^ ^^ disdainful eyertT^'^wd 
ot nis look, doffed hat or earned hand to forehead, and he^ 
I m^ Hir*v ^"*^ "^ S'**' ^ *»"« sympathy of' all parted 
whS ^When"'he"ih/C^.'"l'5=kly. myst^rionslv.TCt 

hnsft. tS:;rfor"L^i:^eS atm^S slE -Tst^S' 

startled the leaders of the opposition. It cond Z b^rt 
^^nld not^be that, after all, .^^^ lion wonldXeto'Tch 

a„d^i^,i^j'^r?eir^«^„f g l"iWtJ7ffi 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THB rnippiHOB ELECTION (continued) 

Bon ! 'uL ] = *" , °''"'' yon Wood-sncker 1 » ISd " B«, 
Uoo 1 the lower elements of the mob broke forth At.^»i 
m »."fm cogence, "The BiU , The BiuT The Ml l^ "'*" 

Bhriek^?iatatvetetbtb.^°- °^ ^-^"^^ ' " 

" Slaves no longer I " 
"No I No I %\» 

this:" r ^ob^rtte'^jLTr'^'"' ^'"^ '^^ "^ '"''^^^ 

it was closSi only bVaTtSKin., ii*^ ^^tv^^- ^° '""»' 

the^-'fe o^n^TtS: rZonC 'Sftte^rLfr 

mto which the interior was divid J th« ™-i * ""* '^"^ 
for the returning oC^nd hfatJlr"'" ""'^'^ '^ '^'^'^ 

downtte o?S' ?!S '" «"'^ «<"»''•« «"-'. looked 

havra.^teed'^^wl"''"''^'""'''^'^- "^«'- ^oing to 

opi»^,^tti^'S?^e^l - °^ '^« - 
mnrdei^."'^ '^'"'' ^« ■«"' "'J"»' we shaU 



aU be 



»7« 



17a 



CHIPPINGE 



master, and better too 1 " *" ^ood as hia 

of the otlier booth vera TKhit^ H„* iir-^ , '"® "'"''' 

the minister Mr W~n^^ H ^??i WiUwrng and Blackford 

conpTeTKi"froi h-"r ^ '^^^^^^ '" '"""^' " 
samLolou, P&^^r Z^nt' " ""^ °' ''"' 

^^^^^.^i,.i:^J:^J^Z - ^;cnr- ejes 

Robert on his side nev^CtJ^r/- '""''''? agitation. Sir 
sense of WTDrMenT B?,fi, u' '"'"' f,""" "^"^^^d the least 

must be war to the knife betw^V t^m I L Henceforth, it 

movement amone those below hirT tifo^ °' * swirhng 
U^on, to his rifht, ^d'^h^In^S ti:T^ ^wK 

A man. one of a gronp of three or four who appeared to 



THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION ,,3 

Btriving to gain thrhnstag ^nt witwi som?° T" "?" 
and his chance of reachin? iV wifK^- .^°* "^ f™"* ■'. 
seemed small. VanZn Z so mn\ ' S'"""** ?" *"■" ^^ 
his temper, and strike aTo^ if ' """^ '"'' '*■« "a" 'oso 
not till then, Vanghan sa^That^'j'" '«'"">H-'""' "'^''. 
He cried " Shame rand^rdi^lfr ""^ ^T" ^^'^■ 
to go to the rescao, when he BaW. '^ ?? '"'*'■ """ '^mer. 
Sir Bobert's taU sm7eZm^^^ ?"°"=«'- '^ b«foro him. 
Hi. eyes, his air, still had wwe^^f^ ^''°"' """"S the crowd, 
befor^ his shari commanf rI depress opened instinctively 
tricated him, aTd h^tnmed to m v ^^hed .>Vhite. had J. 
it struck the more bTOtald^if""''f, ^"^ '"' ^'«»'. "hen 

part BtmngersThirifhatTti" the '^Zt''"' "'%'°'"" 
cause, on foot amongst thlm J^hl- ^""^ ®"*™7 °f the 
made at his back. He fS nhnt " "5'"^'. ^ ^™'' ''m 
two more at his sidf- thfl^w °' °".^»?n'«d. White and 
turned his face alatoto the hnsUnL"^''*'-. ^S"""»' ^e 
and thev were uf^n Wm and fe^ T""!"?* '''^ '"'"Je. 
turn, i man with a long st"ck sS nPy,-^lT •"= "'""'''l 
a lont with a cockad^ nf Lw j ?, °^ •"» ''at, another— 
tried to tn/hr up " He sTumWeS. 1?;^''; ^"'^ '=°"'°"- 
man knocked White dc^n ^* '°°'"''" « 'I'M 

"Do^t'thrC^^a;--' "'"'«' -'>>^««g'^*. 

stnmble,^^::;t"^l\rthT*^ "''i" ''«"' -» «■« 
side. He reached him a itZ '/"^ ''T' '/J "' S'"" -"bet's 
had descended to th™escuef™mfJ™°.V°^ ^°.'' Flixton, who 
Vanghan hurled b^kXl,; ^''^u''^*'' *°<^ °^ *e booth, 
andlhows^still t^W to throl h-'''^/"PI^ ?'' K°be'*. 
of the amber and bZe which thTn™";.'^"™ ' ""'^ *« «ght 
the assailants, and give wl*e «me"to ^P'"" '°" "'^'-^^ 

"^^^;?'^?dm^?^Cn^^ 

danger. Though Sir Bob^rt^rutda^rtedn: w^"shatn1 



iflj 



174 



CHIPPINGE 



Z out LotTon. "" ""''"'' '•"' '"•"'J "* 'f ho had let it 
"Mr. Flixton," ho gaid-thc words reached n dozen ears at 

alfghtlj^touoh^ hi. haC an^/^S Ki,""s^5o» 

pushed his way to his side and stooped to his car talK 
qmokly and earnestly, he did not repel hta ' "^ 

i'„^ j"" «P'sod« was not uncommon, bnt it apDalled tho 
\ emnyden party ; White, in particular, took it vwySslv 
If violence of this sort was to rnld if evVn Sir p^v,/,.. ^" 
Zr£-*° be -Pected, he «w tt^' h wo'm no'" '/aK 
bnng hu voers to the poU. They wonid run c n^k of 
losing their lives , and one or two for certain would no" votS 
The thing must be stopped, and stopped at once wfth thf^ 
n view he forced his way to the p^e at the rear of th« 

ne called for Prbus. Bnt the press at the back of the hnstin« 

bl^kTthe'fn.r 1 ^^^-^t'. ^' ««""»«•« t«menTwfo 
DJocKed the gangway, laughed in his face. 

I want to speak to Pybus," said White elarinp at H,« 

maj^^who on ordinary da^s'^onld h^'7on&"^hta Jat 

when^mStTt; J ^ ^"°u T'^l^'" *•■« <'"'«' r^to^ted. And 
diouMen '" ^"^^ ^^ ^^' "^« """^ e"^" 1^ the 

„„ "H T P*^'" '^''« foamed. No thoneht of Cobbett 
now, had ihe agent. These miserable npstart«Xir insolen^o 

b^'^S?'^ "' '"'""P'' «^ »"■« •"°^- "Let'mTSsr! 

"See yon d d first!" the other answered binntiv 

"If you don't " 



THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION ,„ 

rMr'tCotCi:ZT '" ^'''' ^'''" P'^" y°" over the 

"Pyhiadid." ""B™- 

the pma of a long and bitter effort at stake, an5 'who w^m 

tho^ht fw ^ ^'*^^*™°y^*° ^ done something, ^3 
snarled and snapped at him. According to his ligltJ^ttag 



:Mi 



176 



CHIPPINGE 



"bid Sis ?b»i'3'*™jrn '■;.''•.'«*. 

ar Assn::.„?rb.t'5 Sij£= 

And this was their return 1 No wonrfpr *haf .«»:„-. n.- 
a, he «a. them, he felt a bitter con^rp^t tt'^'Mo^ 
Such freedom ai was good for thom .nz-i, f™ j '™*"°" * 

permanently po^ibleJ?b:/U'*ln"rsJ^?"'^„''^ 

on this fretting, seething mass, he^^^hit which tWcravrf 
pnted, and he saw, too, the outcome : that most croel of fn 
tyrannies, the tyranny of the many over the ^w of The m„ni 
who have neither a heart to feel no^r a body to ham. ^ 

forw^?d? *„rieS r tt''-Airad7ed'l7^ ^Tf 
gestures for silenee for a hearing? for Sf R„t i^"'-" 

feeling the last contempt for the howhng rabble before hta 
bat firmly determined to expose himself tTno second ™nT 

h^s shoulders m scorn, and, shouting the Mmes of hL S 

The old Squire seconded him in dumb show. 
^ iz!".u T^^""' stood forward to state his views Hb 
grasped the rail with both hands and waiW winf .t;i; 
suavity. But he might have waitpd an W, ^ • '''"!'>°K 

on the Tory sSe should be heart '^TheS^e^'"^^'^'''? 

% w rM""/! T".'°^ Wandly?bow^\te^T:^'^ '""'* 

It was Mr. Cooke's turn. He advanced. "K and be 

flZ~^...° '""T ^/.?"«^' apoplectic in the faw Vn e^ 



I 



1 



THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION ,„ 

t!,ii«T„7Jl'"''M''* ^'"'''""'' "ho had looked forward to 
forwarf to nominate the Whig ZdS L !^k S?^^ 

Ala«, he smiled too soon 1 Thp Tnri<« ..n..»j il- -^ 
thev brokp l•n^^ «r,M k^n "T^°™ no could ntter another word 

Hat Williams saw that he must reserve hia nrnfinn . .^j IvT 

; With ^j.° Ld7<^^^*in «is^»s^^^ 

Wrench and— ooe moment, sir I " 
" Eh ? Who do yon say ? " 

.VWr^krdVanghtn!""" """"*""• '''" ^'^ '«' y«" 
/'• Im'p^fc' '■ "'•' ^"''"'y «''='"'»«J '''''' " P^f-ne oath. 
Bnt it was not impossible. Though so ereat wm h,« 
surprise, so striking the effect upon Sif Egbert? sunmrti™ 

Then as Blackford, the Methodirt;, rose to second the 



, 'V 



178 



CHIPPINGE 



I-I hope some onewiU .hJot^ai L, * ""* ?'^^'^ "«* ' 
now .haken hi. hand I bTo-!? y.?""? man I I wi«h I'd 
i^ Praye I HoM never ha' Lw thS *"?? "'^^'"x^*' » '" 
And irom that time Di^iri .. ^''^*'' Nererl" 
doc.bredoi^nnotawrraudibL'*'' wa, in dnmb ri^ow 

mopped their fa^ v^^ieTCn . °*^'''*/- .Exhausted men 
the fcthest from the tt.. li?***? ']""' neck-dotha^ 
was a Inll nntil the wnnd o f dr^'^Lf «?* '^"''k- ""d th^ 
orent,.nd forth from the H^rt »f/t ''°5°''H'^ » "«» 

the fro/t nhSg^K'th^Vo^^ r'^'-^ P'-«^Jr to 
«ide to give them plaw ^ ^ '^"^ ^"^f ^"^ on cither 

CC '?Sf 0^-^ i'jrl ;^°«, thi h'^?^ ;*^"-h and 

•x^'it t:t^(M'''4-^'" " "^ ""^ 

bowed to each ag he retired Arthnfv?' v. "^"""^ ^°^ and 
Sir Bobert'8 voters lookrftt i^ J"'^'^ ^^ =" "otice. 
tad the day before themX^il aSS*"^*' °"^">- They 
Eobert himself became kwuT^ iht am °'i? """J^ n°"' Sir 
patting White and his S^mZ. ®'''^'^- .immediately, 
them We them follow ~?d dZnZ? w"'^'''u''*' « 
would ask no man to do wW h« ^^^ ^^.M""^ '^cm. Ho 

The moment his a^tiln l„ °f^ °°' ^° Wmself. 
men were Been folbwi^Wm^,^^^'^'*^. the "«>"'«■'» the 
movement so thieatenii,| th°t on ?Jf " 7'" '° ^'^^ »°d » 



i^ 



THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION »„ 

A„J •! /' ,"> '"'" '6' 'DOW Pm« to their Hi.f» i " 

rosnlt wfar.flyoforeachofthocaadidat^**" ^"'^' ""• 

to. iw ..m ^„ ifi. u,r, !J?;.*S,t5'. 'mJ '• 



mora 



" y eu,"' fi'r Eobert gtrook in, eyeinc him itemly « »i,.t 
told mo that they wil, stikat n^Wng. ^ BTli^Imt Iw''^. 

Whc^^su^wSrv*** '■'1"° on hiao^nside the man 
wnoso snccess wonld fiU hw pockets. He elected for Wathen, 



iSo 



CHIPPINGE 



If 7Z "'^"^. «"»'"''' Do'ood intcrat wonld wtnrn their 
nw . loTO, Wronch. Bnt when the Un-llord of the nir.» 

u Z*",?™ '"'"' i"T^?,'°'"*''« ' " *™'«^ Squire BowlcT 
M tbe DKincs reached hii ears Sir 1tn\^rt ^."j ""T'"/ 

ProWJjr hi, feeling, wen, berondwori.""^" ""* ""^'"K- 
lone, and amid the frantic cheer ne of the Whiei?th« n.»nl!, 

prndcnce, declined the honoM. '"'• ""• 2™^ 



CHAPTER xrx 
Tui KBurrg OF vicTonr 

MknowlodgotLheoodd not wT' candid num must 
W. Yet he wL awtre th«t th. fK°"* otherwue than he 
•trued. There ™r«r^- « * f'?'°» '»'»'>' "» "iscon- 

«7 that ho L'^ZeT'Chrmn^.'^ """J^"' ''^° *°"M 
kinsman ■ andthaff W .^ ?ST W^P"'^ <» support hia 

S^B^rhetd & aff ^Jit°?r»^^^^^^ 
which Si? fil^Saia^hta "' ''* '""'°'*''' ""■"■» '" 

w ao so was to endanger the boat in which hi« fortnnei 
181 



tSa 



CHIPPINGE 



wcM embarked. Bat in face of tbat offer he conld not 
withdraw. Sir Robert, Wetherel], White, all would think that 
lie had i-esigned, not on the point of honour, but for a bribe. 
and because the bnbe, refused at first, grey, larger the louRer 
He eyed it. = o 

So, for good or evil, he stood whore he was. And for n 
few minutes, while the roar of the applauding mob rose to his 
winaows, he enjoyed his triumph. He was a member of the 
Commons House. He stood on that threshold, on which 
n^™ { p°» 8'-/°'^°. ""^"Ipol* the Wise, and the inspired 
Comet Pitt and Fox, spoiled children of fortune, Castle- 
reagh the illogical, and Canning, 

" Bora with an ancient nsme of little vorth. 
And diBinherited before his birth " 

and many another had stood ; knowing no mora than he 
knew what fortune had in womb for them, what of hushed 
silence would one day mark their rising, what homage of 
loyal hearts and thundering feet would hang upon their words. 
As their fortunes his might be ; to sway to tears or laughter, 
to a nations wed or woe, the men who ruled j to know his 
w;ord8 were fateful, yet to speak with no uncertain voice ; to 
give the thmg he did not deign to wear, and make the man 
whom he must follow after, ay, 

■■ To foil u Walpolc and to fail u Pitt I " 

(his, all this might be his, if he were worthy. If the dust of 
that arena knew no better man. 

His heart rose on the wave of exaltation, and he felt him- 
self fit for all, equipped for all He owned no task too hard, 
no enterprise too hi^h. ^ 'was it until he remembered the 
stupendous change, in L... . .l-tnnes, and bethought him that 
henceforth he must depend upon himself, that he fell from 
the clouds. The story would be sifted of couise j its truth 
or falsehood would be made clear. But, to whatever use Sir 
Robert might have deigned to turn it, Vaughan did not 
believe that he would have stooped to invent it. And if it 
were tme, all the importance which had attached to himself 
as the heir to a great property, aU the privileges, all the 
sanctity of coming wealth were gone. 

Ay, but with them the responsibilities of the position 
were gone also I The change might depress his h«d and 



THE FRUITS OF VICTORY 



'83 



dond hU h^ He had lost mncb which he could hardly 
hope to win for himself. Yet there were compensationg ^ 
hon« . nn^^ through many things in the last twenty-four 
hours ; and perhaps for that reason, he was easily swayed by 
emotion. At any rate, in the thought that he mXnow 

he had no longer any tastes to consult but his own, any pw- 

i ^rfn^'T't-T.^T "^^^ ^^ "h™" t" adopt,'heTound 
sh^Tw ^ff^h* ''«/ta'<=l>«d eagerly. The worid which 
shook him o£f-he would no longer be guided by its dictates. 

h«V«nH'w°T """^i^ ^^' '"''f'- »/- *» the^drainii^ of 

f ~^I,w "^' '^'"'/ """Jg" ''«'■« •liff^r^n'. he tad walked b; 
a certain standard of conduct. If he was now a poor man, he 

in whi^ his fortunes floated, nor ask too closely who were 

XTr° Imv "^^eten faiuro and share success ; with one 
who, m uat life of scant enjoyment and high emprise to which 
he must g.ye himself would fee a guardian%nge1, sayi^Jhim 
from the ^lls of folly and pleasure 1 = . uig mm 

• 5^ ni'gtt please himself now, and he would. Flixton 
might langl, he men of the 14th might laugh. Aid in B^ 
Iw. t r^^i taye winced. But in Mecllenburgh S^m^ 
where he and she would set up their modest tent, he woufd not 

««. ?tif"^'^r5 ^u ^ ^f]^***' ""'" '•>« "'<>"<"'. for he had to 
see PybM. But he would write and tell her of his fortnnS 
and he would ask her to share them. The step was n™« 
conceived than attempted I He took pen and ™per, and^Uh 
a glow about his heart, he prepared toVite. 

But he had never written to her, he had never called her 

•"^h ?Vr*- -^t"*^ i^" •^'^''"''y of addressing her over- 
Mielmed him. In the end, after sitting appalled by the 
boU and shameless look of "Dear Mary,'* "Krest ylary'' 
and of addrewes warmer than these, he solved the difflcuity, 
after a tame fashion, by wnting to Miss Sibson. The letted 
ran as follows— 

Dead Madam, 

"At the interview which I had with yon on Satnr- 
uay last, yon were good enough to intimate that, if I were 



x84 



CHIPPINGE 



prepared to give an affirmative answer to a question which yon 
d^ not put into words, ^ou would pemJt me to see Miss 
iilnTinnJ T''^'' '" a,P«»t'on to give the assurance as to my 
mtentions which you doired, and trust that I may see Miw 
Smith on my arrival m Bristol to-morrow. 

" Believe me to remain, Madam, truly yours, 

" Abthcb V. VaughIn." 

And he told himself that all his life he would remember 
the use to which he had put his first frank I ""e^w-r 

r«v,l^nf'^^V'?if toasting and singing, drunkenness and 
revdry of which the boron^ was the scene, kept him lonjt 
waking But eleven o'clock on the following ioming saw 
hun alighting from a chaise at Bristol, and before noon he was 
m Vueen s Square. 

_ For the bme he had put the world behind him, and it was 
in the lovous anticipation of what was to come that he 
apprwched the house. He came, a victor from the fight : nor 
he reflected, was it every suitor who had it in his power ti) W 
such oflenngs at the feet of his mistress. In thVeye of thi 
world, indeed, he was no longer what he had been; for the 
match-makmg mother he had lost his value. But he bad still 
so much to give which Mary had not, he could still so alter 
the tenor of her life, he could still so lift her in the social 
scale, those hopes which she was to share still flew on pinions 
so ambitions-to the scattering of gartere and red ribbons-that 

^I,«1!ffT^-'°^<^''i!°y°^Ki''"^- He must not be blamed 
If he felt as Kmg Cophetua when lie stooped to the beggar- 
maiden, or as tEe Lord of Burleigh w£en he wooef the 
farmer's daughter. After all he did but rejoice that she had 
so j^ttle and he had so much ; that he could give and she 

Whra he stood before the house he paused a moment, in 
wonder that when so much was altered, itsface rose unchanged. 

£bJ ? M- %^^i'*''?? "f P"' ' ^^ ■^"ocl'ed boldly and 
asked for M«s Smith. He thought it Ukely that he would 
have to wait until the school rose at noon. The maid, how- 
ever, received him as if she expected him, and ushei-ed him at 
once into a room on the left of the entrance. There he stood, 
with a Wting heart, holding his hat ; but not for long. The 
door had scarcely closed on the girl before it opened, and Mary 
Smith came in. She met his eyes, and itsttd-m if she had 



THE FRUITS OF VICTORY 



I8S 



»?!i.^'*^j'° '** ^- ^^^ ^^'^^^ «»y-reJ. and stood 
t^^ *°^ nncertain, with her hand on the door. 

l,:. .;£ ^*'° ?v' ^""'^ '' '»» I ? " te asked, taken aback on 
*;!.,.ti J ., ""^ "J' "?'. "" ^fa'^y Smith with whom he had 
travdled on the coach, with whom he had talked in the Square. 
Th s was a Mary Smith, not less beaatiful ; but gay and^fresh 
as the morning, in dainty white with a broad bine sash, and 
with "omething new, something of a prouder bearing in her 
st'eptowal^srr.'"" "^' ""'" ""' -P-'«l. advancing a 

"Ko," she murmured, and she stood before him, blushin? 
more deeply with every second. For his eyes were beginning 
to talk, and to tell the old tale, whether she would or nl 
Did not MiBs Sibson get my letter ? " he asked. 
1 tbink not," she murmured. 

"Then I have all to do," he said. And it was-it was 
certainly a harder thing to do than he had foreseen. " Will 

fi^ten to"* " '™' " ^°^ ^'*^ ^ " ^^ f^^^^- I "">' yoo to 
For a moment she looked as if she would run away. Then 
she let him lead her to a seat. 

He sat down within roach of her. "And you did not 
know that it was I ? " he said, feeling the difficulty increase 
with every second. 
"No." 

"I hope," he said, " that yon are gkd that it is ? " 
She looked down, and seemed to consider. Then, " I am 
glad to see you again for one thing," she answered. " That I 
"^^T^- L J°" *?"" ^°' "'•»' yo« did for me on the coach." 
With the words he could find no fault. Nay, her downcast 
eyes seemed propitions. Bat there was a something, some 
change in her wMch oppressed him, and which he did not 
understand. One thing he did understand, however : that she 
was more beautiful, more desirable, more intoxicating than he 
had pictured her. And his apprehensions grew upon him, as 
he paused tongue-tied, worshipping her with his eyes. If, 
after all, she would not ? What if she said. No ? For what, 
"0? be came to measure them beside her, were those things 
which he brought her, those things which he came to offer, 
that career which he was going to ask her to share ? What 
were they beside her adorable beauty and her modesty, the 
canaoor of her maiden eyes, the perfection of her form ? He 



i86 



CHIPPINGE 



S i^»^.T""'''**S?*' ?"^>''*' ^^^ Plu^e with which ho 
had meant to open his rait, the confident, "Mair I am come 

ZI^'l "M^" f"^ ^^*^ ■"> °^*^ '0 theAythm of tho 

on W^'li '" '"■* ''* '™°''* °*^*' ^"'K"' "• '^''^'J 

T «™ 1I'"'.."7'"' ."P*"'' °f thankg-it is to gain yonr thanks 

Ln ?f J " *? ""?'' t" '"Shly as yoa can of what I did for 
yon, If yon please ! I want you to believe that I saved your 

a^Jtt^v^ "^""K ^ 7*"' y°° *^ •°"'K'''e 'hat I did it at 

^L.^^ ^"'^f'^ L"^' y""' "^^ oontinned hurriedly, 

to exaggerate a hnndredf old-eveiything I did for yon. And 

Im i"^".' ^?" to suppose that yon owe all to a miser who 

Tn »!? T*^f "'.* '"?,""■'« "^"^ "f-o' i™nense interest, of 
an extortionate return. 

f^nr-LfrJ' think that I understand," she answered in a low 
wf-Inlf '^f ,'''>«^'",.g>0''ed But beyond that he could not 
hll^^i^l f ter feelmgs; she kept her eyes lowered, so that 
he could not read them j and thete was, even in the iidst of 

and which fnghtened him. He remembered how quickly she 
had once before put him in his place: how coldly she had 
asserted herself; and he began to think that perhaps she had 

^?s°h! d^ihi^r^' "^^ '""^ *"« '■"«''»' - *'«' 
retn^I^ntT" "°'^''™'""^'" ^^ ^'^ unsteadily, " what is the 
" No," she answered. 

.. A^A /'r^ji°P/'"'°P*l7' ■"<* ^^ " Paee or two from her. 
And I hardly dare tell yon," he said. " I hardly dare tell 
yon. 1 came to yon, I came here as brave as a lion. And 
now-I don t know why— 1 am afraid. Yon are changed." 

»;«. ?i '•'e-astonishing thing 1-leapt the gulf for him. 
. ssibly the greater distance at which he stood gave her 
courage. * 

" Changed I " she murmured, moving her fingers unon her 

lap and watehing them. " And am I alone not to™an^ ? "' 

Yon alone ? he ejaculated, not for the moment nnder- 

&& t°r' ""^ •'"PP""^ '''""' •''» "=""'»»» '''"' 
of chMi'ki^"°"'"°*° ^'"^ """^ ^*"' ^*" ""'*'' '" "^^ '**''»* 



THE FRUITS OF VICTORY 



187 



" Oh I Ungenerous 1 " 

" It was not true, then ? " 

« True ?" he exclaimed hotly. True that I " 

« Changed yonr mind ? " iihe repeated, suddenly looking at 
hira. " And not only did thnt, sir ? Not only did that ? " 

« But what ? " he asked bitterly, " what eke ? " 

" Talked of me— among your friends ! " 

" A lie I A miserable lie I " he cried on impulse, finding 
hu tcngne agam. " But there, I will teU you aU. He saw you 
—that first morning, yon remember, and never having seen 
any one so lovely, he intended to make yon the object of 
attentions that were unworthy of you. And to shield yon 
from them, I told him that I was going— to make you my 

She did not speak for a moment. Then, " Is that what 
yon mean to-day 1 " she asked. 
"Yes." 

" But yon did not mean it then ? " she returned. " It was 
to protect me you said it ? " 

He looked at her, astonished at her insight and her boldnepa. 
How different, how very different, was this from that to which 
he had looked forward 1 

At last, "I think I meant it," he said gloouiuf. "God 
knows I mean it now I But that evening," he continued, see- 
ing that she waited ineiorably for the rest of his explanation, 
he challenged me at dinner before them all, and I,''^he added 
jerkUy, "I was not quite sure what I meant— I had no mind 

that yon should be made the talk of the— of my friends " 

" And so yon denied it ? " she said. 
He looked darkly before him. " Yes," he said. 
She was silent for a moment,, and then, " I think I under- 
stand, she answered. "What I do not understand is, why 
you .re here to-day. Why yon have changed yonr mind again ? 
Why yon are now willing that I should be the talk of yonr 
friends, sir?" ' 

He stood before her, the picture of abtsement. Must ho 
acknowledge bis doubts and his hesitation, allow that he had 
been ashamed of her, admit that he had deemed the marriage 
he now sought, a mesalliance f Must he open to her eyes those 
noma of cowardly vacillation during which he bad walked the 
Clifton Woods weighing / u-oiUd a^iinst / dart not t And do 
It m face of that new firmness, almost hardness, which he recog- 



i88 



CHIPPINGE 



ni«d in her, and which n*de him donbt if he had an ally in her 

.1,. ^^' " ^A-^^^ •""■' *°»'d »''« understand ? Why ghonlJ 
t^?{. S^ri'^^^T^y- ""derstand how heavily the o^d name 
with Its burden of responsibilities, how heavily the past S 

t»lii^'Aff ?,"'°'?«°t ^^ »M on the point of telline her • of 

.ee.^siip,ertoth«;^nJ:^^:'b:^4^4•''^ '""'• '' 
else ^7 ' '"'" ^"^ ' ■■ ^' '^^ ''"'""y. ^« I have nothing 
sgai'nf " ^*'° "* '"''-""' y°° ''"I °<" "tange yoor mind 

face"*^?on'w^nf "^i "Mary 1" and he sought to read her 
im^'^T^r '''°4' ^ ^"<^' "' I hiverngtl^dtS 

£^e^o^rrose"?H«sf;r„„^•|^^^^^^ 

her MCr ThTh«J' r"^"*,"?' '"^''«^- ^at she bent 
arms'rrutrhadsaM^lJr''"'' '*^"'^'"' «"'"8 ter 
" Ton will ? " 



THE FRUITS OF VICTORY 



189 



And in W'alloti^!^"^ ''''''■ " " '•"" "' "J""" '"» "O" ? 
" Allowed ? AUowcd ? " he cried in the voice of a riant 
How m a moment was aU changed for him 1 " I wonld like to 
Bee- — And then breaking off— perhaps it was her fanlt 
for leaning a httle towards him— he did that which he thon-'ht 
a moment before that he wonld never dare to do. He pntliis 
arm round her and drew her gently and revercntlj to him nntil 
7<?^ ,^, u '" "°' resist-her head touched his shoulder. 
Mine I he .urmnred. « Mine ! Mine I Mine I I can 
hardly believe it. I can hardly think I am so blest." 
And yon will not change ? " she whispered. 
"Never! Never I" 

They were silent, blissfully silent. Was she thinking of 
tbe dark niRht, when she had walked lonely and despondent to 
her new and unknown homo. Or of many an hour of solitary 
depression, spent in cold and dreary schoolrooms, while othera 
made holiday ? Or of what she would be to him ? Was he 
thinking of his doubts and fears, his cowardly hesitation ? Or 
only of bis present monstrous happiness ? No matter ; but this 
was certain. They had forgotten the existence of anything out- 
side the room, they had f cigotten the woxid and Miss Sibson's 
they were in a Paradise of their own, such as is given to no man 
and to no woman more than once, they were a mQlion miles 
from Bristol City, when the sound made by the opening door 
surprised them in that posture. Vaughan turned with an ex- 
clamation to see who it was ; to see who dared to trespass on 
their Eden. He looked— only looked, and he sprang to his 
feet amazed. He thought for a moment that ho was dreamine 
or that he was mad. " 

■ j^"v°?, *^® threshold, gazing at them with a face of 
indescribable asvonishment, rage, incredulity, was Sir Robert 
yermuyden. Ay, Sir Robert Vermnyden 1 The last mta 
in all the world whom Arthur Vaughan had looked to see 
there 1 



CHAPTER XX 



A PLOT UHJCASKED 

Fob a few moments the old man and the yoang man gazed at 
one another, alike in this only, that neither found worts equal 
to his feelings. While Marv, covered with confusion, blush- 
ing for the situation in which she had been found, could not 
hold up her head. It was Sir Bobert who broke the silence in 
a TOiCo which trembled nith passion. 

"Ton viper I " he said. " Yoa viper I You would stine 
me — ^here also ! " " 

Vaughan stared at him. The intrusion was outrageous ; 
but astonishment rather than anfeer was the Toung man's first 
feeling. 

" Here also ? " ho repeated, as it he thought that he must 
have heard amiss, "/sting you? What do yon mean ? Why 
have you followed me ? " And then more warmly, « How 
dareyon, sir, spy on me ? " 

The old man, every nerve and vein in his high forehead 
swollen, raised his cane and shook it at him. 

" Dare f Dare ? " he cried, and then for very rage his voice 
failed. 




^_— -" vermuyae.* . -» «..». ..vu^v juioo uiuHiu o euuuui r Are 

we in Bristol ? Or is it all— bnt firet, sir," recalling with in- 
dignation the situation in which he had been surprised, " how 
come yon here ? I have a right to know that 1 " 

" How come I here ? " 

" Yes 1 How come yon here, sir ? " 

" You ask me 1 You ask me 1 " Sir Bobert repeated, as if 
he conld not believe his ears. " How I come here 1 You 
scoundrel I " 

Vanghan started under the lash of the word. The insult 

'90 






A PLOT UNMASKED ,„ 

WW gratuitoM, intolerable! No relationship, no family tie 

Row ™ii^ .. "^ ^^'J°K" K»^« '»y to P'»w »nger. Sir 
??^i ^f '""'*• "^ ■°'8'" """^e bad, oertiiu rigbta. Bat 
now all that was over. And to snppone that he wm .till [n 

Sir Eobert," be said, "you aro too old to be called to 
account. You may say, tUfore, whet yon pta^ Bat 
not^f^oa are a gentleman, nntU thU yonag'^tady^hM left (!he 

»i J7'^~7°S''«.T'^y ' " Sir Eobert gasped in an indewjrib. 

ftrv^n, iio'i'b^ sr ' <^°-™« - ^«-p ^^^ 

A j"7*^''l y*'**"" "oswered sternly. "That Tonne ladv t 
L'X^lZ'^r^?.f '- anything el.r^.ae' 

lips." ^"^ ^" ' " '"'^ '^""'**' °"^- "^^^ ""^ leap* ^«>m his 
"Sir Eobert I" 

,'! ^y daaghtor-promised to be yonr wi/e ! My » 

Yoardanghter " Vangban's month fell open- 

" Your daughter ? " 

This time the words fell from the younger man in » 
whisper. And he stood, turned to stone. Waaghter? Sir 
Robert's daughter? The girl-he tried desperately t^ clfar 
h^ mmd-of whom WethereU had told the story -the efrl 
whom her mother had hidden away, while in l27y". the fr 
whose reappearance in life ousted & from his inheritaSice ? 
Mary Smitt-was that eirl his danghter ? »nentance ? 

n^ -m" °'J ' "^^^ *''"?^ '«»P' ^^ to his heart. It was im- 
possible. It was incredible I The coincidence ^as faj^t 
too amazin?. H.a reiuinT. ,■^■^^1,^ :— .. ■,. "»» "« greaD, 



,,, CHIPPINGE 

But the eldo- man, thon(?h W« hand trembled on hii cano 
»nd hi« face waa »Uow with rago, had by thm time roaained 
some control of him.elf. Inatoad of retorting on Vanghan- 
aavc by one glance of withering «'n'«™I*-''? '""'^ j? "'^: 

"ton had better go to yonr room," hf mid, coldly bnt not 
nnecntlT. For how, be wa» thinking, conld he blame her, brea 
anSd «ich .nrroundings, tor conduct that "> otter circnm- 
Btancea had irritated him indeed? For conduct that hod 
been unseemly, nnmaidenly, i uproper. "Yon had better go 
toyour room,^' he repeated. " This is no fit place for you. and 
no fit discussion. I im not-the fault is not with you, but it 
will be better if yon leave ns." , , , ^ . < 

She was rising, too completely overwhelmed to dream ol 
resistance, when Vanghan interposed. 

" No," he said, with a gleam of defiance in his eyes. By 
vonr leave, sir, no I This young lady is my ^fflanccd wife. If 
ft S htr wirfi to retire, be^t so. But it not, there is no one 
who has the right to bid her go. Yo" "-stopping Sir 
Bobert's wrathful rejoinder by a gestui-e-;" may be her father, 
but before you can iiercise a father'i righu you must make 

^° » ffake'good my case ? " Sir Robert ejaculated. 

•' And when yon have made it good, it wUl still be for her 
to choose between us," Vaughan continued. '"}') 8«)'"°?5«'"- 
mination. " You, who have never plaved a father s part, who 
have never guided or guard. J, fostered or «l»«"»^«d^ ^l^rj." 
not think, sir, that yon can m a moment arrogate a fathers 

onthongr.^^ gasped. Bnt the next moment he took up the 
glove. He pointed to the door, and with less courtesy than 
the occasion demanded. 

" Leave the room, girl," he said. 

"Do as yon please, Mary," Vanghan said. 

" Go 1 "cried the baronet, stnng by the use of her name. 

" Stay 1 " said Vaughan. , ^ .. . , 

Infinitely distressed, painfully distracted by this appeal 
from the one, from the other, Mary turned her swimmmg eyes 
on her lover. i ^ j , » 

" Oh, what," she cried, " what am I to do ? 

He did not speak, but he looked at her, not doubting what ^ 
she would do, nor conceiving it possible that she could preler 
to him, whose professions were still honey in her ears, whose 



A PLOT UNMASKED ,93 

•rm WM itill wum from tho prBMara of hor form— that ihe 

rfl! n^me " '^ "^^ "» ""»" thTtheMS 

h«r^,?i^i!^ °v y**j.!i''?* ""7 either in her itnngth or 
1 J*"**^ Nor did he ooMider that her father wa« 

hfni .►-"'k '«'.'«''«d; drooping, a. the white ro« that 
fK^ ^ '"^ '5 'J"" ^""^ '•">'«• Then >he tu i io 
SLionlp ""^ "^'''°« •"' "™ ""^"^ »'« "«"' «i«d 

fonr'ivlwmf" ^ 8"^ '^ »^"'. «" Forgive him I Oh. 

"MVdear ■• 

" Oh, forgive him I " 

wi»i?™]!^w'*i'""~',¥. ^v" •"*'•■ ""'' • cswMing hand, and 
her hSd!^ •" "'^'" *''•• ^'^^'^ "* •>'• "dvenaiy ow 

. he hod not deceived von into thi> ! Into the belief that ha 

I '^^•'i°'^7j^\^ T" ""^y y" inheritan<» Or that 
pwt, Jhe added bitterly, » of which ho ha. not already roCd 

But'h wiU^^Vaft^" "'''• "'"' '"'^'' -^P^ '""y '<"• 
phJitJ.'^ "'"'''^ °" *• ^"•"""' •*"»«* "'0'^ «»■»- 
temSrUhS"- I»P«'P«''«'""»«eotherrecoveredhi. 

"when mi^'Htru""* 'SJ'^^'" ^'^ ^o^^"* continned, 
t^„ ^y <^»°Khter nnderstandB, that when yon came here 
tOHlay, when yon stole a inarch on me, as yon th^ht. md 

m,TJ, li • .?' '^* ^** "7 danghter, knew that ihe was 
SJl, 7*^ ^T '^..'" '^^ ouaterf you.Tme; that by a mi^Z 
with her, and by that only, yon could regain wW yoTh^ 

^He"wL'ie*w^th'S*''"' ""*"• ""'^ '"'*"«' '«'<'"«««• 
"Then refute it I " Sir Robert laid, claaping the girl-who 



'i 



«94 



CHIPPINGE 



"II b Inondible," VMghan cried. "It n««di no n- 
fntalion t » 

"Wby ?" Hir Robert retorted. "I iteta it. I am pre- 
pared to prove it." 

"To prove " 

"Tlwt yoa Imew," Sir Bobcrt replied. "Knew thii hdy 
to be IDT danghter when 700 oime hero thii morning 1 Knew 
it Bi well ai I Icnew it mjnelf." 

Yaoghau returned hii looli in ipeecbleH indignation. Did 
the man really believe in the charge ? It wai not poia ibie t 

And, " Sir Robert," he amwerM, speaking alowljr and with 
dignity, " I never did yon harm by word or deed until a day 
or two ago. \nd then, Ood known, relnctantl; . How, then, 
can yon low '<'onnelf to snch a charge i " 

" Do you ^L.ny, then," the baronet replied with contemp- 
tnona force, " that /on knew ? " 

Vanshan atarea. "Yon will aay preiei^tly," he replied, 
"that I knew her to be yonr daughter when I made her 
acquaintance on the coach a week bock, at a time when yon 
knew nothing yonraelf ? " 

" As to that I cannot say," Sir Robert rejoined. " I do 
not know how nor where yon mode her acquamtance. But I 
do know that an ocqnaintanoe 10 convenient, could hardly be 
the wo-k of chance 1 " 

" Good — d I " Tanghan cried. " Then yon will aay also 
that I knew who f*he waa when I called on her the day 
after, and again two days after that — while yon were in 
ignorance?" 

" I have laid," the baronet answered coldly, " that I do 
not know now yon made your acquaintance with her. But I 



have, I <annot but have, my suspicions." 

" nnimininna ? •SospiciOnS ? " VaUg 

the base issne of prejudice and dis- 



' Su'ipioions ? iSospicions ? " Vanghan cried bitterly. 



"And on suspicion, 

like " 

"No, sir I " Sir Robert struck in. "Though it may be, 
that if I knew who introduced von to her, and who opened 
this house to you, I might find ground for more than sus- 
picion 1 The schoolmistress might tell me somewhat, and — 
yon wince, sir I Ay," he continued in a sterner tone, " I see 
that there is something to be learned I But it is not npon 
snspicion that I charge yon. It is upon evidence. Did ^on 
not, before my eyes, and before two other witnesses, read in 



A PLOT UNMASKED ,„ 

" Never I Never I " 

And vet ihe liitened. 

«tit„v^ ijor nrrivai Bt isrutol. Do yon deny that ? " he mn 
bro,;'°^'?hiiS^" ' """""" ""'" •"■' '■'"'d P««d to hi, 

4l:ro}t^i"^1^.tvK\t^T^^^ 

cried iShal^"" ""*^' •" the writing?" Sir Bobert 
"I did not." '' 

lip. MS'iftS'' ""'"' """^ ''^ ""' "•"* -• - «"» 

f«^ "confirmation rtrong « •hell.-Twoh ahrL^w. "bS 



* 



I9< 



CHIPPINGE 



vhich Sir '. jberl did not know — ono or other of these feelings 
made her falter on the threshold, mode her tnm. Their 
eyes met. 

He stepped forward, white with pain. For what pain is 
stronger than the pang of innocence accused ? 

" One moment," he said, in an nnsteady voice. " If we 
part so, Mary, we part indeed 1 We part for ever I I said 
awhile ago that yon mnst choose between us. And yon have 
chosen — it seems. Tet think I Give yourself, give me a 
chance. Will you not believe my word ? " And he held out 
his arms to her. " Will you not believe that when I came to 
yon this morning I thought yon penniless ? I thought yon 
the unknown schoolmistress you thought yourself a week ago ? 
Will you not trnst me when I say that I never connected yon 
with the missing daughter I Never dreamed of a connection. 
Why should I ? " he added, in growing agitation as the words 
of his appeal wrouc'-t on himself. " Or why do yon in a 
moment tnink me j, 'ty of the meanest, and -the most mer- 
cenary of acts ? " 

He would have taken her hand, but Sir Eobert stepped 
between them, grim as fate and as vindictive. 

" No 1 " he said. " No more I Yon have given her pain 
enough, sir 1 Take your dismissal and go ! She has chosen 
— you have said it yourself I " 

He cast one look at Sir Eobert, and then, "Mary," he 
asked, " am I to go ? " 

She was leaning, almost beside herself, against the door. 
And ah, how much of joy and sorrow she had known since 
she crossed the threshold. A man's embrace, and a man's 
treachery. The sweetness of love and the bitterness of— 
realitv I 

"Wry I " Vaughan said. 

But the father could not suffer this. " By G— d, no ! " be 
cried, infuriated by the other's persistence, and perlups by 
fear that the girl would give way. " Ton shall not soil her 
name with yonr lips, sir 1 Yon shall torture her no longer. 
Yon have yonr dismissal. Take it and go I " 

" When she tells me with her own lips to go," Ysnghan 
answered doggedly, "I will go. Not before 1" For never 
had she seemed more desirable to him. Never, though con- 
tempt of her weakness wrestled with his love, ksA he wanted 
her more. Except that seat in the Hoose which had cost Ww 



A PLOT UNMASKED ,57 

80 dearly she wag aU that was left to him. And it di,5 „n>- 
seem possiWe that she whom he had held in his ami she who 
had aUowed her love for him. with whom he hTTOwlJt^- 

ttf. ^^ll^Krl"^"^ "''"^"' P«»'We that sheTuld behev^ 
this miserable, this incredible, this impossible thbe I Or ^? 

her mexpenence and youth. Now all tfiMn *h^L . j ?^' 
ureaicea, tnat He, who had come to her bearin!? hpr mnH,«X 

prepared to acknowledge her-was it tobe Wieyed tK 
stiU sought her in ignorance? That he who haH ~^ 1, 
Btory in black and white, stiU W notWng ? ^ "^ ^'' 

No, she could not believe it. But it was a hifUr t\,!r, . 
know that he had not loved her I That Z had ^L^^k*" 
for gain I She must speak if it were ont toW^onlv Si 
r^K/r'""*P^ She yearned fon°ot^fr^i'g 

iW'^'rfSfo^.Xo^hVe"^^'' ''^''^ ^^^ -^ ^^^ 

Thfl.ThnS'^ "^ ^'? 1°°' "'"^ on the^fldKvt 
.mint J" ^^* "^5 •"?? '°°"'«<J ■* 'he Other. "AiB yon not 
going?" he asked, with grim meaning. "Yon have robb^ 

^;»n^'XTLt;ns??'^-' ^-™ «^ 
Ani'^itr^^Tgttd^ttt'i^;:;^^^^^^ 



CHAPTER XXI 

A usKTiiro or old fbidnds 

It was September. The House elected in those first days of 
May was four months old, and already it had fulfilled the 
hopes of the country. Without a division it had decreed the 
hrst reading, and by a majority of one hundred and thirty-six 
the second reading of the People's Bill j that B;!l by which 
the preceding House, slaying, had been slain. Kew members 
were beginning to lose the first gloaa of their enthusiasm ; the 
youngest no longer ogled the M.P. on their letters, nor franked 
for the mere joy of franking. But the Ministry stiU rode the 
flood tide of favour, Lord Grey was stiU his country's pride, 
and Brougham a hero. It only remained to frighten the 
House of Lords, and in particular those plaguy out-of-date 
fellows, the Bishops, into passing the BUI j and the batUe 
would be won, 

" The Bticets be paved with mutton pie«, 
Potatoes eat like pioe I " 

And, in fine, every one would live happily ever afterwards. 

To old Tories of the stamp of Sir Eobert Vermuyden the 
outlook was wholly dark. But it is not often that public care 
^uds private joy ; and had Eldon been Prime Minister, with 
Wetherell for his Chancellor, the grounds of Stapylton could 
not have worn a more smiling aspect than they presented on 
the fine day in early September, which Sir Eobert had chosen 
for his daughter's first party. The abrupt addition of a well- 
grown girl to a family of one is a delicate process. It is apt 
to open the door to scandaL And a little out of respect to 
Mrs. Grundy, and more that she who was now the apple of his 
eye might not wear her wealth with a difference, nor lack 
anything of the mode, he had not hastened the occasion. A 
198 



A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS 199 

SSli^l!^'^^"'^'^.^*"' '""' 'her^-with ca« ; the truth 
^oH^ R^ Tf' '^IP^POf «™'<"" of o'bers had been 
coMalted. But at length the day was come on which she 
must stand by hB side aud receive the wld of WHtS 
antnmn .^ '"^ "^ ?'f^ ^°' •»»« '^an an hour of this 
«. ^T^^ M™S°° ' "'^^ "><='' P"^e 0° his side as was fitt^T 
and such blushes on hers as were fitting also. Now the 
f^'u't^ of reception oyer, and his comTwny dfcwrsed 
through the gardens, Sir Eobert lingered with We oTtw^S 
his intimates on the lawn before the house. In the hollow of 

w!fM„T P,™""^, "' "^^i' ^^y-'^ ^as rearing off 
Withm the gardens a famous baud from Path played thine": 
fadiioncd quadrilles, turn about with Moore's IrishMeM J- 
and a score of the fair, gorgeous as the dragon-flies whfch 
dartol above the water, sauntlred delicately^^and "the 
sward, or, under the escort of gentlemen in Ughtly stZpai 

Se thpTotS?^'^ *?•* ^t"" disappeared among the elms 
Deside the Garden Pool. In the background ^e house 
adorned and refurnished, winked with aU its windows atTe 

flowers, throbbed to the very recesses of the hauntcTwine 

five^f ^?ol tSiS. i1 1^: Ke"C^ tl!!. et^ 

ii'f "I'/'?"'' P^^j^e *'* pleasure, to the lisS^of hfa 
new-found daihng. The odds had been ^eat t.' , with such 
a breeding, she had been coarse or sly. common ir Kh 
And she was none of these things; but fair as a flower 
slender as Psyche, sweet-eyed as a woman, damty and vS 
^Wa"*^."',^*^- /"^withal gentle and kin/and oSnt 
j;;^^ ! 't."'^""; ^^ ''""''^ "°' ^^^"^ God enough, as 
tL^f f)" 'y*"A°^ f°"°K "''° »"^ °^^ ^o'nen what they 
fought of her. And he was thanking Him, though in out- 
irard seeming he wag attentive to an old friend's prattle, whwi 



300 



CHIPPINGE 



hu eyes feU on a carnage and four which, followed by two 
ontnders, was sweeping past the marqnee and breastine the 
gentle ascent to the honse. All who were likely to arnve in 
Boch state, the Beauforts, Snffolks, Methnens, were come ; the 
old T)nke of Beanfort, indeed, and his daughter-in-law were 
gone again. So Sir Kobert stared at the approaching carriage, 
wondering whom it might contain. o -e . 

. v!^'*!^ "','^®. Bowood liveries," a friend, who had loneer 
sight, informed him. " I thought they had gone to town for 
the Coronation." 

Sir Robert ^h^ been under that impression. Indeed, 
though he hod invited the Lansdownos upon the principle-- 
which even the heats attending the Reform Bill did not wMly 
abrogate— that family friendships were above party, he had 
been glad to thi^ik that he would not see the spoliators. The 
trespass was too recent, the robbery too gross. Aj, and the 
times too serious. - ji-^^i" 

Here they were, however, Lady Lansdowne, her daughter, 
and a small gentleman with a merry eye and curiing locks. 
Sir Kobert reraessed a sigh and. advanced four or five paces to 
meet them But, though he sighed, no one knew better what 
be<ame a host; and his greeting was perfect. One of his 
bitterest flings at Bowood painted it as the common haunt of 
fiddlers and poets, actors and the like. But he received her 
kdyships escort-who was no other than Mr. Moore of 
Sloperton, and of the Iriah Melodies— with the courtesy which 
he would have extended to an equal ; nor when Lady Lans- 
downe dismissed her girl tc tea under the poet's care did he 
\ a'^'"^\°^ ^ reprobation appear. Those with whom he 
had been talking had witbdrarn to leave Jiim at Uberty, and 
he found himself alone with Lady Lan^iowne 

" We leave for Berkeley Square to-morrowi for the Corona- 
tion on the 8th, 'she said, playing with her fan in a way 
which would have betrayed to her intimates that jhe was not 
quite at ease. "I had many things to do this morning in 
view of our departure and I could not start early. You must 
accept our apologies. Sir Robert." 

" It was gracioM of your ladyship to come at all," he said. 

It was brave," she replied, with a gleam of laughter in 

her eyes. In fact, though I bear my lord's warmest felicita- 

tions on this happy ^vent, and wreathe them with my own, 



A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS 301 

fomaUy'^^ '°" ^^'^ "°"^ ^""^ Lansdowne," he said 
-;fi!'^ ^°.^°*' 'v°'' ^ '''°°''^ J^^e ventured," she continued. 

He bo;v^, but waited in sUence for her eiplanation. 
^ •:. J =• V^ ™"'«' delicate nature," she said. " Am I 
permitted, Sir Robert, to speak in confidence ? " 
plimeats °°' ""derstand, and he sought refuge in com- 

.; n V 'J-JH^SS "" permitted to so much " 

Hush I she said. " But there I I will take vnn »» 
yo^ word. _ "You know that the Billithere i bSton': bS 
nowadays— 18 in Committee f " 

«ai/»lhT^' ^''^'H''^ '^* '°''J««'- "I don't think," he 

^M nV)'"'i^.i',"*^'" *!l? .replied, with a confidence which she 
ti n w- • •'* /^°" '?" ^'"^ ""o- I' » whispered that there 
w a question in Committee of one of the doited boroughi 

2rilL"R'°''^'^^fu^'?''*' ^"^ ^'"een Schedule A Ind 
Schedule B ; and that borough is Chippinge. Those who 
know whisper Lord Lansdowne that ultinitely it will be 
plucked from the burning, and wiU be found in Schedule B. 
Consequently it will retain one member." 

Sir Eoberfs thin face turned a dull red. So the wicked 
Whigs, who had drawn the line of disfranchisement at such a 
point as to spare their pet preserves, their Calne and Bedford 
and the like had not been able, with all their craft, to net 
every fish. One had evaded the mesh, and. by Heaven, it was 
Chippinge I Chippinge, though shorn of its full glory, would 
still return one memW. He had not hoped, le had not 
expected that. Now i«~ uuu 

" Noil omnis moiior, mnltaqne para mei 
Vitabit Libltinnm I " "^ 

he thought. And then— another thought darted through his 
mind and changed his loy to chagrin. A seat had been left 
to Chippinge. But why ? That Arthur Vaughan, the rene- 
gade, might continue to fill it, might continue to hold it. 
under his nose and to his daily, hourly, his constant 



aoa 



CHIPPINGE 



mortification I It was too much I The; had aaid well vho Baid 
that an enemy's gift was to be dreaded. But he Id fight 
the seat, at the next election and at everv election, rather than 
suffer that miierable person, miserable on bo many accounts, 
to fill it at his will. And after all the seat was saved ; and 
no one conid tell the fnture. The lasting gain might outlive 
the temporary vexation. 

So, after frowning a moment, he tried to smooth his brow. 
" And Tour mission, Lady Lansdowne," he said politely, " is to 
teUmothis?" 

" In part," she answered, with a hesitation which she did 
not try to hide, for the coarse of his feelings had been visible 
in his coantenance. " But also " 

" But also, and in the mam," he suggested with a smile, 
" to make a proposition, perhaps ? " 

"Yes." '•'-'- 

He thonght of the most obvious proposition, and he spoke 
in pnisnance of his thought. 

" Then forgive me if I speak at once and plainly," he said. 
" Whether the borongh lose one member or both, whether it 
figore in Schedule B or Schedule A, cannot affect my opposi- 
tion to the Bill. If yon have it in commission to make any 
proposition based on a contrary notion, I cannot listen even 
to yonr ladyship." 

" I have not," she answered, with a smile. " Sir Robert 
Vermnyden's malignancy ia too well known. Yet I am the 
bearer of a proposition. Suppose the Bill to become law — 
and I am told that it will become law — can we not avoid 
future conflict, and— I will not say future ill-will, for (Jod 
knows there is none on our side. Sir Bobert— but fnture 
friction, by an agreement ? Of course it will not be possible 
to nominate members as in the past. But, for some time to 
come, whoever is returned for Ohippinge must be returned by 
your inflnence, or by my lord's." 

He coughed dryly. " Possibly," he said. 

" In view of that," phe continued, fiirting her fan, as she 
watched his face — his manner was not encouraging — "and 
for the sake of peace between famiUes, Sir Bobert, and a little, 
may be, because I do not wish Kerry to be beggared by con- 
tested elections, can we not now, while the Bill is on the kp 
Of the gods " 

" In Committee," Sir Bobert corrected with a grave bow. 



A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS aoj 

She laughed pleaaantly. "Well," she allowed, "perhaps 
that IB not the Bamo thing. But no matter. Whoever the 
lates in charge, can we not"— with her heed on one aide and 
a charming Bmile— " make a treaty of peace ? " 

"But if WB do," Sir Robert asked, with urbane larcaam, 
what becomes of the rights of tie people. Lady Lansdowne? 
And of the pority of elections ? And of the new and inde- 
pendent electors whom my lord hag brought into being? 
Must we not think of them ? " * 

She looked for an instant rather foolish. Then she rallied 
and with a slightly heightened colour — 

1 •" ^.? ^.°^ '™?,', ™* '^™'-" '^° '■''P''«d- " Bnt at first it is 
plain that they will not be able to walk without assistjincc " 

„n,v'*""'^" J' y^ ""^ ">9 *'P of tis tongno to answer. 
"The new md independent electors? Not walk without 
assistance? Ob, what a change is here ! " But he forbore. 
He said instead, with the faintest shade of irony, "Without 
our assistance, I think you mean. Lady Lansdowne ? " 

, /J*"' f ""^ '^ ^^°S ^°' "^^y s'lonld we not agree, his 
lordship and you— to save Kerry's pocket, shaU I £ay?— to 
bring forward a candidate alternately ? " 

Sir Bobert shook his head. He would fight 

"Allowing to you. Sir Robert, as the owner of the influence 
nitherto domiLont in the borough, the first return." 

" The first return— after the Bill passes ? " 

"Yes." *^^ 

That was a different thing. That was another thing 
altogether. A g'eam of satisfaction shone for an instant 
under the baronet's grizzled eyebrows. The object which he 
had most at heart was to oust his treacherous cousin And 
bore was a method, more safe by far than any contest under 
the new Bill. 

"Well, I— I cannot say anything at this moment," he 
answered at last, trymg to hide his satisfaction. "These 
heats once over, I do not see— your ladyship will pardon me— 
why my infinence should not still predominate." 
^ It was Lady Lansdowne's tnm. "And things be as 
before ? she answered. "No, Sir Robert, no. You forget 
those rights of the people which you were so kind as to 
support a moment ago. Things will not be as before. But 
perhaps I shall hear from yon ? Of couree it is not a matter 
that can be settled, as in old days, by our people." 



ao4 



CHIPPINGE 



\H 



"Yon thall certainly hear from me," he rejoined with 
more than oonrteiy. " In the mean time " 

... ." \ "? ^^,"*f ^ "* y" danghter," she nid. " 1 am told 
that she u 08 lovely ai a picture. Where ig ghe ? " 

"A few minutes ago the wai in the Elm Walk," Sir 

Robert an»wered, a faint flush betraying bis ^ratification. 

" I will send for her." .op ". 

But her ladyship would not hear of that; nor would she 

BulTer him to leave his post to escort her. 

" Here's la belle Suffolk coming to take leave of yon." she 
said. "And I know my way." 

" But you will not know her," Su Robert answered eagerly 
u T 7??', If^oT^e 'e' her parasol sink over her shoulder. 
..w'^". J, '?'"• ** replied, vith a glance of meaning. 
" If she IS hke her mother." 

And without waiting to see the effect of her words she 
moved away. 

It was said of old time of Juno that she walked a godden 
confessed. And of Lady Lansdowne as she moved slowly 
acroM the sunny lawn before the church, her dainty skirts 
trailmg and her parasol inclined, it might with equal justice 
have been said that she walked a great 1- 'y, of that day when 
great ladies still were, ' 

" Nor mill nor mart Lad mocked the gninoa'a ilamp." 

Whether she smiled on this preon or bowed to that, or with 
a slighter movement acknowledged the courtesy of those who 
without claiming recognition, made respectful way for her| 
grace and nonchalant ease were in all her actions. The 
deeper emotions seemed as far from her as were Hodge and 
Joui playing kiss in the ring. But her last words to Sir 
Robert had reacted on herself ; and as she crossed the rustic 
bridge she paused a moment to gaze on the water. The band 
was playing the air of "She is far from the Land," and tears 
rose to her eyes as she recalled the past, and pictured scene 
after scene, absurd or pathetic, in the career of the proud 
beauty who had once queened it here, whose mad pranks and 
madder sayings had ones filled these shrubberies with mirth or 
chagrin, and whose child she was about to see. 

She sighed, as she resumed her course, unable even now to 
blame Lady Sybil as her conduct to her child deserved. But 
where was the child ? Not in the walk niider the elms, which 



A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS 105 

w»s deterted in fajonr of the more lively attnictioni of the 
•? 1 ■ -.u ^ I^aMdowne pawed, looking tfaii way and that ; 
at length, aTOUing hetKl/ of the solitnde, >he paced the walk 
to itii end, whence a ihort path which she well remembered led 
to the kenneh. Rather to indulge her sentiment and reoaU 
the days when she was yonng, and had been intimate here, 
than because she expected to meet Mary, she took this path. 
She had not followed it a dozen steps, she was hesitating 
wbetner to go on or retnm, the strains of Moore's melody 
were «carMly blnrred by the intervening Unrels, when a tall, 
darkjTobed fignre stepped with starUing abniptness from the 
Bhmbs and stood before her. 

"Loniea," said the stranger. And she raised her veil. 
" Don t you know me ? " 

L^y Lansdowne caught her breath. «' Sybil I " she criod. 
iw^Hybill the other answered curtly. And then, as 
!.t5?, . J^,'? ^^^ Lansdowne's tone had wounded her, 
Why not? she contianed, raising her head proudly "My 
name oame easily enough to your ladyship's lips once 1 And 
1 have jret to learn that I have done anything to deprive me 
of the right to call my friends by their names, be they who 
they may." ' 

"No! no I But " 

"But you meant it, Louisa I" the other retorted with 
energy. " Or is it that yon find me so changed, so old, so 
worn, so altered from her yon once knew, that it astonishes 
yon to trace in this face the features of Svbil Matching ? " 

"Yon are changed," Lady Lansdowne answered, unable to 
remove her eyes. " I fear that you hare been ilL" 
XT " l*™ ^"•" '^^ replied. " I am more than ill, I am dying. 

Not here, nor to-day, nor to-morrow " 

Lady Lansdowne interrupted her. "In that sense," she 
said gently, "we are all dying." But, though she said it, the 
chbdge in Lady Sybil's appearance shocked her, almost as mnch 
as her presence in that place amazed her. 

"I have but three months to live," Lady Sybil answered 
feverishly; and her sunken cheeks and bright eyes, which 
told of some hidden disease, confinct,d her words. "I am 
dying in that sense ! In that sense, do you hear ? But I 
dare say, ' with a flash of her old levity, "it is my presence 
here that alarms yon ? You are thinking what Vermnyden 
would say jf he turned the comer behind you, and found ns 



iiiii 



Mt 



CHIPPINGE 



tofretfaor I " And u Lady Lanidowne, with • nervoM itart, 
looked over her ihonlder, ihe laughed with the old recklcw- 
ne«. "I'd lilce to lee hii face, my dear, and yonrg, too, if ho 
found ni. But there," ihe continued, with an abmpt change 
to eameitnen, " it'» not to wu yon that I came to-day I Dont 
think it I It'» not to aee yon that I've been waiting for two 
honn pMt. I want to «ee my girl I I mnit we her, do yon 
•'« f"'';,K0"'B'°»«8hcr. Yon murt bring her to me I " 

"Don't contradict me, Lonisa," she cried peremptorily. 
" Havont I told yon that I am dying ? Don't yon hear what 
I «ay ? Am I to die and not aee my child ? Cruel woman I 
HeartleM creature 1 But you were always that I Cruel and 
cold 88 an icicle 1 " 

"Indeed, I am not 1 And I think yon should ace her," 
Lady Lanadowno replied in no amall diatrcaa. How, indeed, 
could ahe faU to be diatresaed by the contraat between this 
woman, plainly dreaaed, and with illness stamped on her face, 
and the brilliant hamm-eoamm Lady Sybil, with whom her 
thoughts had been busy a few hiinntes before ? "I think yon 
ought to ace her," she repeated, in a soothing tone. "But 
yon ahonld take the proper steps to do so. Yon " 

"You think— yes, yon do," Lady Sybil retorted with 
vehemence— "yon think that I have treated her so ill that 
I have no right to see her, that I cannot care to see her I But 
yon do not know how I was tried, how I was watched. What 
wrongs I suffered, what misconatrnctions I And I never 
meant to hide her for good. When I died ahe would have 
come home. I had a plan too, to right her without Ver- 
jnnyden's knowledge. I saw her on a coach one day alone 
with What ia it?" " 

"There is some one coming," Lidy Lansdowne said 
hurriedly. She was verv nervous. She knew that at any 
moment she mifrht be followed by Sir Bobert, and the thought 
of the scene which wonld follow, aware as she was of the 
exasperation of his feelings, appalled her. She tried to 
temporise. "Another time," ahe said. "I think some one 
is coming now. See me another time, and I will do what 
I can." 

" No 1 " the other broke in, her face flushing with anger 
"See yon, Louisa ? What do I care for seeing yon ? It is 
my girl I wish to see, that I'm gofaig to see I I'm her mother I 



A MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS ao, 

L^rKyi*" *? '?.''"• V"^ ^ ""' ««»'«> I demand her, 
fetch her to me I If too do not go for her " 

»k™«5 kJ 8y''"r'>''y LMsdownc cried, thoronghly 
w*mT" violence, "for Heaven', take bb 

"Calm?" Lady Sybil answered. "Do yon cease to 
dwtate to me and do a. I bid yon I Oo and fetch her, or 1 
will go myself, and chim her before aU his friends. He has no 
}^1 '• « p'!^ had a hwt I It's sawdust," with a hysterical 
Ai r^S' ^^ ha. pride, and I will trample on it I I wiU 
tread it m the mud if yon don't fetch her ! *^ Are yon goinir 
Miss Gravity? We nsed to caU von that, yon WmS? 
Ton were always, • with a sneer, " a k of a pride, my dear I • 

of w^'iHr'^-'u W*«t''''K-'?'«?"«"'"'^''hatthonghU 
of yonth, the nick-name brought back to Lady Unsdowne's 
recollection. What wars of maidens' wits, and ImHIirf 
jealousies, and i;j;ht resentments, and sunny days of piqne and 

l^l^^L "v /^'T'' °«^« «»y""ng but soft, wLll scSe 
md pitifnl. Tet-how was she to do the other's biddinir? 
How could she betray Sir Bobert'e confidence ? How venture 
10 interiere r 

ronS"' °°' ^™* coming, reaUy coming thu time. She looked 

"I give yon five minutes," Lady SybU whispered. " Five 
minutes, Louisa I Bememberl" 

And when Udy Lansdowne tnmed to remonstroto with 
ner, she had vanished among the laurels. 



CHAPTER XXII 

WOMIN'8 hiabts 

Lady La58D0WK1 left the shrabbery in • itata of perplexity, 
from which the monotonona lilt of the band, which wai playing 
a favoarite qnadrille, did nothing to relieve her. Whether 
Sybil Vermnyden were dying or not, it wa« certain that aho 
wai ill. Diieaae had laid it« hand beyond miataking on that 
once besntifnl face ; the levitv and wit which had formerly 
dazzled bcholdera now gleamed but fitfnily And witli inch a 
ghastly light as the oorpao-candle givea forth. Since Lady 
Lanidowne had aeen her in the coach at Chippenham the change 
was great ; and it might well be that, if words of forgiveneei 
were to be ipoken, no time mnit be lost. Old aoociations, 
pity, a mother's feelings for a mother, all nrged Lady Lans- 
aowna to compliance with her reqneat ; nor dia the knowledge 
that she who bad once qneened it so brilliantly in this place 
was now lurking on the fringe of the gar crowd, athint for a 
sigat of her child, fail to more a heart wnicb all the jealonsiea 
of a Whig coterie had not hardened or embittered. 

Unluckily, the owner of that heart felt that she was the 
last person who ought to interfere. It behoved her, more than 
it benoved any one, to avoid fresh ground for quarrel with her 
husband's neighbour. Courteously as Sir Bobert had borne 
himself on her arrival, civilly as he had veiled the surprise 
Trhich her presence caused him, she knew that he was sore 
hurt by his defeat in the borough. And if those who had 
thwarted him pnbliclr were to intervene in his private concerns, 
if those who had suborned hia kinsman were now to tamper 
with his daughter — ay, or were to incur a suspicion of tamper- 
ing — she knew that nis ire would know no bounds. She felt 
that resentment would be justified. 

She had to think, too, of her husband, who had sent her 
with the olive-branch. He was a politic, prudent man ; who. 



WOMEN'S HEARTS ,09 

oontent with the lolid tdrantsffo ha hud mU^ i..j . , 

WM more capable of caST hcTth«^4 ""i TT*" 

«>if'^k''et'tirff,:j^^r''^&eif^ K°r vr "."■ 

rtve h/r SSLr^'i:'"? Ti'^'^""* "' ""> father e*^ 
i^,S Ti, P^?.e- She looked a iccond time: and «ho 
w w^'"'";-.""'''"^' •''« beckoned to the girl ti wmel^ 
ho t.n™'"''"''''",'"'*'"'^""'^'"' •»"> "' the'^^njanS rf 

r„ . 'u '''^°i'? *"/? ^"°«" y°» "aywlicre." And shedrew 
her to her and kimed her. " I'am Lady Unsdowne I kn^3 
^oar^mother. and I hope that you ani £jt:^Ur ImZ 

..v^*'°iT°u'.°°. °^ ''*■' "Other increased Matr'g shvncss 

"Yoar ladyship i, ve^ kind," she mnmmrer^ ^ " 

She did not know that her embarrassment was so far from 

^ t^p:r/«tCn-rTo£S 

»?S,r ""^ "■""^"^ "<" <?y to bide the de^h of herfwltaS 

— that yon may bo more happy." "wuugs 

The girl's colour faded at this second reference to her 

p 



»io CHIPPINGE 

mother. For she cotild not Oonbt that it was made with 
intention. Her father, even while he had overwhelmed her 
with benefits, even while ho had opened this new life to her 
with a hand full of gifts, had taught her— tacitly or by a 
single word — that that name was the key to a Bluebeard's 
chamber ; that it must not be nsed. She knew that her mother 
lived ; she guessed that she had sinned against her husband ; 
she understood that she had wronged her child. But she 
knew no more ; and with this, since this at least she must 
know. Sir Robert would have had her content. 

And yet, to speak correctly, she did know more. She knew 
that the veiled lady who had intervened at long intervals in 
her life must be her mother. Bat she felt no impulse of 
affection towards that woman — whom she had seen. Her heart 
went out to a shadowy unknown mother who walked the silent 
hoTise at sunset ; whose silken skirts trailed in the lonely 
passages, and of whose career of wild and reckless gaiety 
she had vague hints here and there. It was to this mother, 
radiant and young, with the sheen of pearls in her hair, and 
the haunting smile, that she yearned. She had learned in 
some subtle way that the vacant place over the hall mantel, 
which her own portrait by Maclise was to fill, had been 
occupied by her mother's picture. And dreaming of the past, 
as what young girl alone m that stately house would not, she 
had seen her come and go in the half lights, a beautiful, spoilt 
child of fashion. She had traced her up and down the wide, 
polished stairway, heard the tap of her slender sandal on the 
shining floors, perceived in long-closed chambers the fading 
odours of her favourite scent. And in a timid, frightened 
way she had longed to know her and to love her, to feel her 
touch on her hair, aud to give her pity in return. 

It is possible that she might have dwelt more intimately 
on Lady Sybil's fate, possible that she might have ventured 
on some line in regard to her, if her new life had been free 
from preoccupation ; if there had not been with her a regret, 
which clouded the sunniest prospects. But love, man's love, 
woman's love, is the most cruel of monopolists : it tramples 
on the claims of the present, much more of the absent. And 
if the novelty of Mary's new life, the many marvels to which 
she must accustom herself, the new pleasures, the new duties, 
the strange new feeling of wealth — if, in fine, the necessity of 
orientating herself amsh in relation to every person and 



WOMEN'S HEARTS „, 

^ Von knew my mother ? " eho aet, 1 
tae,h5,^3-"' '"" """ """^ •»>"* "I 

She IS not here ? " she faltered. 

aJ,^^^}^- t^'^^i' ^"^r Lansdowne made answer " Anrt 
tl m« be.fr'ghtened, my .fear 1 •• she continned " Bnt l^Z 

''She 18 unhappy, and she is iU." 
Suddenly a burning blnsh flooded Mary's face ''rw;n„„ 



I, 



I I; 



j„ CHIPPINGE 

But she would be strong now. " Where is she, if yon please ? " 
she eontinned bravely. " Can 1 see her at once ? 

"She is in the path leading to the kennels. Yon know 
it? No, yon need not take leave of me, child I Go! And, 
Lady Lansdowne added with feeUng, "God forgive me, if I 
have done wrong in sending yon ! " ,, , , , , 

" You have not done wrong I " Mary cried, an unwonted 
BDirit in her tone. And without taking other leave she turned 
and went, though her limbs trembled under her. She was 
going to her mother! To her mother! Oh, strange, oh, 
impossible thought ! . , , ^ -^ i 

Yet, engrossing as was that thought, it could not quite oust 
fear • fear of her father and of his anger. And the blush soon 
died ! BO that the whiteness of her cheeks when she reached 
the Kennel Path formed a poor set-off for the ribbons that 
decked her muslin robe. What she expected", what she wished 
or feared or hoped, she could never remember. What she 
saw, that which awaited her was a woman, ill, and plainly clad, 
with the remains of beauty, indeed, in her wasted features ; 
but a woman, cynical of face and hard-eyed, and far, very far 
from the mother of her day-dreams. 

Such as she was, the unknown scanned Mary with a kind 

a™™^^?°^g ^j^ scornfully, "So this is wh^t they have 
made of Miss Vermuyden ? Let me look at yon, girl ? 
And laying her hands on Mary's shoulders, she looked 
long into tie tearful, agitated face. "Why, yon are like a 
sh^t of paper! " she continued, raismg the girl's chin with 
her fineer " 1 wonder you dared to come with Sir Kobert 
saying no i And, you little fool," she continued in a spirt of 
irntation, " as soon not come at all, as Iwk at me like that ! 
You've my chin and my nose, and more of me than I thought, 
but— but God knows where yon got your hares eyes 1 Are 
yon always frightened ? " 

"No, ma'am, no! "she stammered. . 

» No ma'am ? No, goose 1 " Lady Sybd retorted, mimick- 
ing her " Why, ten kings on ten thrones had never made me 
slake as you are shaking 1 Nor twenty Sir Eoberts in twenty 
t^ions 1 What is it you are afraid of ? Being found with me/ 

" No I " Mary cried. And to do her justice, the emotion 
with which Lady Sybil found fault arose far mow from a 
natural agitation, on seeing her motlicr, than from fear on but 
own account. 



WOMEN'S HEARTS 2,3 

„,iJ,'^' " It dislike of me?" her mother continned-a 

fJZi.!? V r.°' ^"^r^'^e her face. "Yon hate me, I 
suppose ? You hate me I " 

I' Oh no, no I "the girl cried in distress. 

Mary from w"" . y^^ f 'J" 'O'^^y^o^'^'^'^ Ladj Sybilpnshed 
Mary rrom her. "You set down all to me, I supDoseT I've 

^L^ZiTJr T' *^'' '" ^ ■"" the ^ffmother 
worse than a step-mo her, who robbed yon of your rights and 
made a beggar of you and would haveiept you a Sr! I 

mother ? A T°''^'^ y°" """J ™bbed you, the Stural 
mother? And yon never ask," she went on with fi^ im- 

What I bore I No nor what I meant to do with you ! " 
inaeea, mdced " 

yiol^nlw^ 'hf^''*'A*^J''i ^,^y'" I"^y Sybil repeated 
violently. "At my death, I tell you— and I am dyine bnt 

von J' u^t *° y°" '~^' ^°"M fi''^^ te«° told, gwT And 
y°" J'OHld >ve got yonr own. Do you believe me ? "she 

menacing. Do you believe me ? " 

vehrmen.^" ^ffSe^Sfdo'^^^" ^ ' """' ''^ *^ <"''^'''' 
"/Jj. swear 't. if you. u'ke I But ( ..„ped that Sir Robert 
would die fi«t and never know I He dSvTno toter 

iKrOrT^""^ 1^,,rU ^"-^ '•'«° y°»'d have step^ 
into all Or better still 1 Do you remember the day you 
traveled to Bristol? It's not so long ago that yon^ne^ 
mlfth'^ ^'^ Ve^^yden ?, I saw yon: and I saw t?e yoiLg 
Z^^ ''^!J*/°"- J ''"«'' '»'"' and I told myself thnt 
there was a God after all-thoiigh I've often doubted itn-or 
you two would not have been brought togetherl I ww 
another waythcn. But you'd have partll and known nothing 
^nfc him J?r* recklessly, "I'd not helped Providence, and 
sent him with a present to your school. Why, you're red 
enough now, "irl I What is it ? " ^ ^ 

I wll^w^m ^.i'^iV' ^"7 "nrTred, with an effort, "who 
1 was, ma am ? " How her heart beat I 

I told him? Not II" LadySybU answered. "He 



JI4 



CHIPPINGE 



i' 



knew no more than a doll. I told him nothing, or he'd have 
told again I I know his kind. Bnt that way I'd bare got 
all for yon, and thwarted Vermnyden, too 1 Married his heir 
to the little schoolmistreaa I Oh, it was an opera tonch, 
beyond all the Tremaynes and the Vivian Greys in the world I 
But, when it promised best, that slnt of a maid went to my 
husband, and trumped my trick t " 

"And Mr. — Mr. Vaughan," Mary stammered, "had no 
knowledge — who I was ? " 

" Mr. — Mr. Vanghan 1 " Lady Sybil repeated, mocking her, 
" had no knowledge ? No I Not a jot, not a tittle 1 But 
what ? " breaking off with a keen look, and speaking in a tone 
of derision. " &ti the wind there. Miss Meek ? You're not 
all milk and water, bread and butter and backboard, then ? 
Bnt have a spice of y^onr mother, have you ? Mr. — Mr. 
Vanghan t " again she mimicked her. " Why, if yon were fond 
of the mao, didn't you say so ? " 

Mary, under the fire of those sharp, hard eyes, could 
not restrain her tears. But, overcome as she was, she 
managed in broken words to explain that her father had 
forbidden it. 

" Oh, your father, was it ? " Lady Sybil rejoined. " He 
said No, and no it was 1 And the lord of my heart and the 
Man of Feeling is dismissed in disgrace I And now," she ran 
on in a tone of raillery, assumed, perhaps, to hide a deeper 
feeling, " we weep in secret and the worm feeds on our damask 
cheek ! I suppose," she added shrewdly, " Sir Eobert would 
have you think that Vanghan knew who you were, and was 
practising on you ? " 

"Yes." 

" And yon dismissed him at papa's command, eh ? That 
was it, was it ? " 

Mary could only confess the fact with teats ; her distress in 
08 strange contrast with the gaiety of her dress as with the 
strains of the neighbouring b^d, which sang of festivity and 
pleasnre. Perhaps some thought of this kind forced itself upon 
Lady Sybil's light end evasive mind ; for, as she looked, the 
cynical glint in her eyes gave place to an expression of emotion 
better fitted to those wasted features, as well as to the relation 
in which the two stood to one another. She looked down the 
path, as if for the first time she feared an intrusive eye. Then 
her glance reverted to her daughter's ulender form and bowed 



WOMAN'S HEARTS 



"5 



h^ ; and agam her face changed, ii, grew soft, it grew pitiful. 
The laurels shut aU m, the path was empty, they were alone. 
Ihe maternal feehng, long repressed, long denied, long buried 
under a mountain of pique and resentment, of fancied 
wrongs and real neglect, broke forth irresistible. In a step she 
was at tht girl s side, and snatching her to her bosom in a 
fierca embrace, was covering her face, her neck, her hair with 
hungry kisses. 

The action was so sudden, so unexpected, that at first, 
crushed and even hurt by the other's grasp, and frightened by 
her vehemence, Mary would have resisted, would have tried to 
free herself. Then she understood. And a rush of pent-up 
affection, of love and pity, carried away the barriers of con- 
straint and timidity. She clang to Lady Sybil with tears of 
joy, mnrmuring low broken words, calling her, "Mother, 
Mother 1 " burying her face on her shoulder, pressing herself 
against her. In that moment her being was stirred to its 
aepths. In all her life no one had caressed her after this 
fashion, no one had smbraced her with passion, no oho had 
kissed her with more than the pkcid „afection which genUeneaa 
and goodness earn, and which kind offices, kindly performed, 
warrant. Even Sir Robert, even her father, proud as he was of 
her, much as he loved her, had awakened in her respect and 
gratitude, mingled with fear— rather than love. 

-After a moment, warned by approaching voices, Lady Sybil 
put her from her i but with a low and exultant laugh. 

" Yon are mine, now I " she said. " Mine, not his, mine 1 
You will come to me when I want yon. And I shall want you 
soon I Very soon I 

Mary laid hold of her again. " Let me come now 1 " she 
cried, forgetting in the depth of her feeling all but the mother 
she had gained, vhe arms which had cherished her, the kisses 
that had rained on her. "You are ill 1 Let me come to 
you 1 

,.-".^oI Not nowl Not nowl" Lady Sybil answered.- 
1 wiU send for yon when I want yon. i will promise to send 
for you. In good time, and it will be soon. And yon will 
come I "she added, with the same ring of triumph in her voica 
" You will come, I know I " For even amid the satisfaction of 
her mother-love it was joy to her to know that she had tricked 
her husband ; to kno- 'hat though she had taken all from the 
child and he had give. Ji, the child was hers— hers, and could 



u 



( 



3l6 



CHIPPINGK 



tWi 



never be taken from her I " Yon vill come I For yon vill 
not hsve me long. But " — this in a vhiaper, as the Toicea 
came nearer, " go now I Oo now I And not a word I Not a 
word, child, 03 you love me. I will send for yon, when my 
time comes." 

And with a last look, strangely made up of love and pain 
and malicious triumph. Lady Sybil moved out of sight among 
the laurels. And Maty, drying her tears and composing her 
countenance as well as she could, turned to meet the intruders' 
eyes. 

Fortunately — for she was far from being herself — the two 
persons who hod wandered that way did but pause at the end 
of the Kennel Path, and, murmuring small talk, turn to retrace 
their steps. She gained a minute or two, in which to collect 
her thoughts and emc }th her hair ; but more than a minute or 
two she dared not linger lest her absence should arouse 
curiosity. As sedately as sU" could, she emerged from the 
shrubbeiy and made her way — though her breast heaved 
with a hundred emotions — towards the rustic bridge on which 
she saw that Lady Lansdownc was keeping Sir Bobert in 
talk. 

In talk, indeed, of her. For as she approached he placed 
the coping-stone on that edifice of her praises which her 
ladyship had craftily led him to build. 

"The most docile," ho said, "I assure you, the most 
docile child you can imagine 1 A beautiful disposition. She 
is docility itself 1 " 

" I hope she may always remain so," Lady Lansdowne 
answered slyly. 

"I've no doubt she will," Sir Robert replied, with fond 
assurance, his eye on the Honourable Bob, who was approach- 
ing the bridge from the lawns. 

Lady Lansdowne followed the look with her eyes and 
smiled. But she said nothing. She turned to Mary, who was 
'now near at hand, and reading in the girl's looks plain traces 
of trouble and of agitation, she contented herself with sending 
for Lady Louisa, and asking that her carriage might be called. 
In this way she cloaked under a little bustle Uie girl's em- 
barrassment as she came up to them and joined them. Five 
minutes later Lady Lansdowne was gone. 

After that, Mary would have had ample food for thonght, 



WOMEN'S HEARTS tjj 

had her mother alone filled her mind ; had those kUsea which 
had BO stirred her being, those clingins arms, and that face 
wLieh bore the imprint of illness, alone burdened her memory. 
Years afterwards the beat of the music which played that 
eveni jg in the gardens, while the party within sat at dinner, 
iaunted her ; bringing back, as such things will, the scene and 
her aching heart, the outward glitter and the inward care, the 
Honourable Bob's gallantries and her father's stately figure as 
he drank wine with her ; ay, and the hip, hip, hurrah, which 
shook the glasses when an old squire, a privileged person, rose, 
before she could leave, and toasted her. 

Burdened only with the sacred memories of the afternoon, 
and the anxioty, the pity, the love which they engendered, she 
had been far from happy. But in truth, with all her feeling 
for her mother, Mary bore about her a keener and more bitter 
regret. The dull pain which had tronbled her of late when 
thoughts of Arthur Vaughan would beset her was grown to a 
pang of shame, almost intolerable. She had told heraelf a 
hundred times before this that it was her weakness, and her 
fear of her father, which had led her to give him up—rather 
than a real belief in his baseness. For she had never, she was 
'1!'^ "i?"' ^^^ ^"^ °*^^'' helieved in his baseness. But now 
that she tneio— now that her mother, whose word it never 
struck her to doubt, liad affirmed his innocence, now that a 
phrase had brought to her mind every incident of that coach- 
Ti^'^u- I ^^"^ morning, the sunshine, the budding trees, 
the birth of love— pain gnawed at her heart. She rolled her 
face in her pillow to stifle her sobs. She was sick with 
misery. 

For, oh, how thankless, how poor and small a thing he must 
think her I He would have givri! her all, and she had robbed 
him of all. And then when she had robbed him, and he could 
give her little, she had turned her back on him, abandoned 
lum, believed evil of him, heard him insulted, and joined in 
the outrage 1 Over that thought she shed many and many a 
bitter tear— that night and in after nights. Romance had 
a)me to her in her lowliness, and a noble lover, stooping to 
her, and she had slain the one and denied the other. And 
now, now there was nothing she could do, nothing she would 
dare to do. i e >• 

For that she had for a moment believed in his baseness— if 
she had so believed— was not the worst. There she had been 



ai8 



CHIPPINGE 



the Bport of circumstances ; and the phase had been brief. 
Bnt she had been weak, she bad been swayed, she had given 
him up at a word, there was the mb. 

There was the mb I And, ah, how happy had she been 
could she have undone the past I Could she hare gone bock 
to Miss Slbeon's, and the dull Bchoohroom and the old stuff 
dress — and heard his step as he came up to the door I Alas, 
it was too late. For she could never again make him rich, and 
herself poor. 



CHAPTER XXIII 



nt TUB HOUSE 

As a fact, Mary's notion of the opinion which Arthur Yangban 
had of her wag above, rather than below, the reality. In her 
most despondent momenta she scarcely exaggerated the things 
he thonght of her, the contempt in which he held her ; or the 
resentment which set his blood conrsing when he remembered 
how she had treated him. He had gone to her and laid all 
that was left to him at her feet ; and slie, who had already 
dealt his fortunes so terrible a blow, had paid him for his offer, 
for his sacrifice of mnch that was dear to him, with suspicion, 
with contumely, with mistrust I Instead of clinging to him, 
to whom she nad that moment plighted her troth, she had 
deserted him at a word. In place of trusting the man who 
had wooed her in her poverty, she had beueved the first 
whisper against him. She had shown heiself heartless, faith- 
less, inconstant as the wind — a very woman I With a bitterness 
of which the author of the lines had been quite incapable, he 
might have murmured — 

" Away, avay— yonr ■mile'a a oorso ; 
Ob, blot mo from tbe race of . en. 
Kind, pitying Heaven I by deatb or vone^ 
Before I lore >uob thinge agaia I " 

But then Mr. Moore, though his poetry and his singing brought 
tears to the eyes of women of fashion, hardened by many an 
intrigue, had never lost at a Mow a great estate, a high position, 
and his love. 

Certainly Vanghan had, if man ever bad, grounds for a 
quarrel with fate. He had left London heart-whole and 
happy, the heir to a Uxge fortune. He returned a fortnight 
later a member of the Commons' House indeed, but heart-sick 
and soured, beggared of his expectations, and tortured by the 
319 



a»o CH.PPINGE 

thought of what might hare boen, if hii lovo had proved true 
>•» ahe wa« fair, and oonstant ai ihe was iweet. For dreams of 
her aliape, her face, her beauty atill tormented him. Visioni 
of the modest home in which he would have found consola- 
tion in failure, and smiles in success, rose up to deride him. 
He hated Sir Bobcrt. He hated, or he tried to hate, the 
weakest and the most despicable of women. He saw all things 
and all men with a jaundiced eye ; the sound of his voice and 
the look of his face were altered. Men who knew him, and 
wliu passed him in the street, or who saw him eating his chop 
in solitary churlishness, nudged one another and said that he 
took his reverses ill ; while others, wounded by his curtncss or 
hi'i ill-humour, added that he did not go the right way to make 
the most of what was left. 

For a certainty he was become a man nnpleasant to handle. 
But, under th. orns, was a very human soul, wounded, sore, 
and miserable, seeking every way for an outlet from its pains, 
and finding hope of escape at one point only. Men were right 
when they said that he did not go the way to make the most 
of his chances. For he laid himself out to please no one ; it 
was not in him. But he worked lat/> and early, and with i uions 
energy, to fit himself for a political c : ^''r ; believing that success 
in that career was all that was loic to him, and that by the 
necessary labour he could best put the past behind him. Love 
and pleasure, and those sweets of home-life of which he hod 
dreamed, were gone from him. But the stem prizes of 
ambition, the crown of those who live laborious days, might 
still be his — il the " Mirror of Parliament " were never out 
of his hands, and if Mr. Hume himself were not more 
constant to his favourite pillar under the gallery than he to 
such chance-seat as might fall to him on the same side of the 
House. 

Alas, he had not taken the oath an hour — with a sore 
heart, in ar ruck of undistinguished new members — before he 
saw that success was not so near, or so clearly within reach, as 
hope, with her flattering tale had argued. The times were 
propitious, indeed. The debates were close and fiery, and were 
scanned oat of doors with an interest unVnown before. The 
strife between Croker and Maoaulay in the Communs, the 
duel between Brougham and Lyndhnrst in the Lords, were 
followed in the country with as much attention as a battle 
between Belcher and Tom Cribb ; and by the same ciasses. 



IN THE HOUSE aai 

ETOrywhoro men talked polities, talked of Reform, and of 
httle else. The clubs, the 'Changt, the tavenw, nay, the draw- 
mg-rooms and the Bchoois rang with the Bill, the whole Bill, 
and nothing but the Bill ; with Schedule A, cruel aa Herod, 
ami tohedulo B, which Bpared one of twins. In front of the 
window m the Haymarket, which weekly displayed H.B.'s 
political caricatures, crowds stood gazing all day long, whatever 
the weather. 

These thinzs were in his favour. He remembered, too, the 
stress which the Chancellor had laid on the advantage of 
entering the House in advance of the crowd of new men whom 
the first Reformed Parliament must contain. 

Unfortunately it seemed to him that he was one of iu'it 
snch a mob of tyros, as it was. Nearly a. fourth of his col- 
leagues were new to St. Stephen's ; and the greater part of 
these, owing to the circumstances of the election, were Whigs 
and sat on his side of the House. To raise his head above the 
level of a hundred competitors, numbering not a few men of 
wit and ability, and to do so wiihin the short life of the present 
Parliament— for he saw no sore prospect of being returned 
again— was no mean task. Tattle wonder that he was as 
regular in his attendance as Mr. Speaker, and grew pale of 
nig. ts over Woodfall's Important Debatei,. 

In the pride of his first return he had dreamed of a repu- 
tation to be gained by his maiden speech ; of burning periods 
that wonid astonish all who heard them, of flights of fancy to 
live for ever in the months of men, of a marshalling of facts so 
masterly, and an exposition of figures so clear, as to obscure 
the fame of Sinele-speech Hamilton, or of that modem pheno- 
menon, Mr. &aier. But whatever the effect of the present 
ru K °" '°"'^'' °^ nowces, there existed that in the old 
thamber— mean and dingy as was its wainscoted interior, and 
cnmberco by gaUeries— there existed a something, were it but 
the memory that those walls had echoed the diatribes of 
thatham and given back the voice of Burke, had heard the 
laugh of Walpole and the snore of North, which cooled the 
spirit of a new member ; which shook his knees as effectually 
as if the pnelling of the room had vanished at a touch, and 
revealed the glories of the Gothic chapel which lay behind it. 
tor behind that panelling and those galleries the ancient 
chapel, with its sumptuous trace^ and graceful statues, its 
frescoed walls and stained glass, still existed— no unfit image 



aai CHIPPINGE 

of the itatoly principles which lie bcliiod the dull, evctjdsy 
rnlee of onr Con«titntion. , . „ 

To Arthur Vaughan, a student of the history of the House, 
this effect of the Chamber upon a new member was a common- 
place. But ho was a practised speaker in the mimic arena i 
and he thought that he might rise above the feeling. Ho 
fancied that he understood the Genius Loci, its hatred of affec- 
tation, and almost of eloquence, its dislike to be bored, its 
preference for the easy, the conversational, and the personal. 
And when he had waited three weeks— so much he gave to 
prudence — ^bis time came. 

He row in a moderately thin Ilouie in the middle of the 
dinner-hour ; and rose, as he thought, fully prepared. Indeed 
he Btuted well. He brought out two or three sentences with 
ease and aplomh ; and he fancied the difficulty over, the 
threshold passed. But then— he knew not why, nor could ho 
overcome the feeling— the silence, kindly meant, which greeted 
him as a maiden speaker, had a terrifying effect upon him. A 
mist rose before his eyes, his voice sounded strange to him— 
and distant and shrill. H6 dropped the thread of what he 
was saying, he repeated himself, and lost his nerve. For somo 
seconds, standing with all faces turned to him— they seemed 
numberless seconds to him, though in truth they were few- 
he could see nothing but the Speaker's wig, grown to an im- 
mense white cauliflower, which swelled and swelled and swelled 
untU it fiUed the whole House. He stammered, repeated him- 
self a second time— and was silent. Then, as, seeing that he 
was embarmssed, they cheered him, the mist cleared ; and he 
went on— hurriedly and nervously. But he was awMe that 
he had dropped a link in his areument, which he had not 
now the coolness to supply. And when he had munnured 
a few sentences, more or less inept and incoherent, he sat 

In truth, he had made no mark, but he had also incurred 
no discredit. But he felt that the eyes ot all were on him, that 
they were gloating over his failure. And comparing what he 
had done with what he had hoped to do, his achievement with 
those secret hopes, those absurd aspirations, he felt m th ' 
shame of open and ludicrous defeat. His face burned. He rat 
looking before him, not daring for a while to divert his gaie, 
or to learn in others' eyes how great had been his mishap. 

Unfortunately, when he ventured to change his posture, 



IN THE HOUSE ,,3 

and to put on hi« hat, which he had been holding in his hand 
iinoe he aat down, he enconntered Serjeant Wnthen'i cyee • 
and he read in them a look of nmiuemcnt, which wounded hii 
pride more than the open ridicule of a crowd. That wae the 
flniahing rtrolte. He walked out io.in 8fterwaId^ boarinff 
hmuelf ai indifTerently ai he conld. But no man ever carried 
from the House a lower heart or a heavier Benoe of failure. 
Ho had mutoken his talents, he had no aptitude for debate. 
Hucccu as a apcaker wai not within hia reach. 

He tjionght something better of it next day. but not much, 
.ui" V. .P"' °^ ' tneaking hang-dog sir when he entered 
the lobby. A number of members were gossiping inside the 
double doors, where the stairs from the cloisters came up by a 
third door ; and one or two whom be knew spoke to him— 
but not of hu attempt. Ho fancied that he read in their looks 
a knowledge that he had failed, and that he was no longer a 
man to be reckoned with. He imagined that they used a 
different tone to him. At length one of them spoke of it. 

" Well, Vanghan," he said pleasantly, " you got through 
yesterday. But, if vou'll take my advice, you'll wait a bit. It's 
only one here and there can make much of it to begin " 
. , " ^."^J^n'y. omnot," Vanghan said, smiling frankly, the 
better to hide his mortification. 

,_. "^'••yel'. yon're not alone," the other answered, shrugging 
his Aouldem. " You'll pick it up by-and-by, I dare ray." 
And he turned to speak to another member. 

Vanghan on his side turned to the paper for the day which 
hung against each of the four pillars of the lobby j and he 
pretended to be absorbed in it. The employment helped him 
to keep his countenance, but he was sore wounded. He had 
held his head so hij^h i-, iiiia-.i nation. He had given so loose 
a rem to his ambitioa ]:.■ Uyi dreamt of making such an 
impresaion on the House aa Mr. Maoanlay, though new to it, 
had made in his speech on the second reading of the former 
BiU— and had deepened by his speech at the like stage of the 
present Bill. Now he was told that he was no worse than the 
common run of country members who twice in three sessions 
rose and blundered through half a dozen sentences. He was 
consoled with the reflection that only " one here and there " 
Buoceeded. Only one here and there I When to him it was 
everything to succeed and to succeed quickly. It was all that 
he had left. 



224 



CHIPPINGE 



The stream of membeis, entering the House, was large ; 
for the motion to commit the Bill was down for that afternoon, 
and, if carried, wonld virtually put an end to opposition in the 
Commons. 

Ont of the corner of his eye, Vaughan scanned them, and 
envied the leaders. Peel, cold, prond, and unapproachable, 
went by on the arm of Goulbum. Croker, pale and saturnine, 
casting frowning glances here and there, went in alone. The 
handsome portly form of Sir James Graham passed, in talk 
with the Eupert of Debate. After these came a rush of 
members ; and at the tail of all lumbered in the unwieldy, 
slovenly form of Sir Charles Wetherell, followed by a couple 
of his satellites. 

Vanghan, glancing on one side of the paper which ho 
appeared to be studying, caught Sir Charles's eye, reddened, 
and looked away. Seated on opposite sides of the House— and 
no man on either side was more bitter, virulent, and pug- 
nacious than Wetherell— the two had not encountered one 
another since tbit evening at Stapylton, when the existence of 
Sir Robert's daughter had been disclosed to Vanghan. They 
had not spoken, much less had there been any friendly passa^ 
between them. But now Sir Charles paused and held out his 
hand. 

" How do you do, Mr. Vaughan ? " he said in his deep bass 
voice. " Tonr maiden essay yesterday ? " 

Vanghan winced. " Yes," he said stiffly, fancying that he 
read amusement in the other's moist eye. 

To his surprise, "You'll do," Sir Charles rejoined; and 
looking at the floor and speaking in a despondent tone, " It's 
a deal better to begin in that way than like some d — d peacock 
on a lady's terrace," he continued. " Take the opportunity of 
saying three or four sentences some fine day — and repeat it a 
week later. And I'll wager you'll do." , , 

" But little, I am afraid," Vaughan said._ None the less 
was his heart fall of gratitude to the fat ungainly man. 

"All, maybe," Wetherell grunted. "I shouldn't wonder. 
I've been told, by one who heard him, that Canning hesitated 
in his first speech, very much as you did. It was on the 
Sardinian Subsidy. The men who don't feel the House never 
know the House. They dazde it, Mr. Vanghan, but they 
don't guide it. And that's what we've got to do." 

He passed on then, with a melancholy nod and averted 



IN THE HOUSE 



325 



eyes, bnt Vaughan conid have blest him for that "we" 
aL JS„*n°°? "1° *' 'f*' "^""^ '" ««•" be told himself, 
lent as My which the Howe of Commons had ever witnessed 
•nSru ""*'7'""'°'.*. P"™^ ■' ''■"ded on the motion that 
},« 1?S^ i° "'"' adjom-n "-when in the midst of the fray 
^^Z^^fA-*'^\^''1J^°u.^ commended him, riding the 
^n^',^^ ^"^"^'"S the whirlwind, now lashing the Whigs to 
fuiy by his sareasm, and now carrying the whole House Iway 
m a hmriame of langhter-if he did not approve, and with 
I . liTthT'"* not approve-he learnt, and learnt much 
bi^fn^L. 'v^ ?*"^l man with the heavy face and that 
h atM between his breeches and his waistcoat which had made 

r^t^Hr* T '"T^"? "^ ^° ^^^ and to say things, and 
to ook things^ for which a less honest man had been hiiried 

hii ^^ ^T/- ^"t "'^ •^'»« ">« House believed in 
Him; because it knew that he was fighting for a princiDle 

'A^l^ '" ^^ ^"^r '' k°«'' that^he hon^tly put 
i^A- .t?^ predictions of woe which he scattered so freely, 
and m that rum of the Constitution with which he twitted hta 
opponents. 

A week later Vaughan acted upon his advice. He seized 
an opportunity and catching the Ckirman's eye-the Bill wm 
in Conmuttee-he delivered himself of a dozen sentences, with 
^n^n iT"' "f PI°P™'y. 'hat Sir Robert Peel, spiking 
an hour later referred to the "plausible suggestion m^e bf 
In e™"?^*"'' ^""'^' ^^' Chippinge." The reference drew 
»n/Cf J*°^'l''\' and though nothing was said to him, 
Z w "^ ?"■? ,'" hear hunself as if he Ead done no betted 
than before, he left the House with a lighter step and a com- 
fortable warmth about the heart. That evening he was more 
at ease If not more happy, than he had felt for weeks past. 
Love pleasure Mid the rest were gone : and faith in woman. 
But If he could be sure of gaining a seat in the next Parlia- 
ment, the way might be longer than he had hoped, it might 
be more toilsome and more dusty ; but in the eW he wonld 
amve at the Treasury Bench. 

He little thought that the effort on which he hugged him- 
Mtf would prove a fountof misfortunes. But so it tSrned out. 
His maiden speech had attracted neither notice nor envy. Bnt 
these few sentences, short and simple as they were, by drawine 
an answer from the leader of the Opposition, had gained^ U.!h 

Q 



„6 CHIPPINGE 

In brief, it was the version of the facts, which he nan 
once drS and about which he had long ceased to trouble 

•^"^L were perhaps, half a doMU men in the House who 
knew the S, wd W that the young man bad Fofes»ed 

Kwei" rsTon^tfat'I^^ti^ who knew the facU«>uld 
* t ?hou7cI^radict it. To Wetherell'seaTs the story dd n^ 

=^:tS^^«S£H^^^ 

Ha had not forgotten the manner after ''"«''./"°f'f° "*{J 

within livinff memory ; and many thmgs naa oe^n aouo bu 
manv saS of which honourable men were not proud. But 

it was felt that t^part^ need no^pple^^^^^^^ 

fSre ; ind if he did not make » SW^d appearance m 



IN THE HOUSE 



»»7 

Not a few 



Parliament, the lo9a to the party would be small 
•ummed up the matter in that waj. 

Va^han wiw not intimate with any one in the Honse or 
ho won d have learned what was afoot; and ho miSTwe 
token Btepg to get himself right. Bnt nntU late^ hTC li?S 
with his regimeC, ; ho had but made his bow to Wiet^^ and 
«nce his misfortane, he had been too soie to make^ew Wends' 
Of course he had acquaintances not a few— Si Z.n if.™ 
acquaintances ; but no* one in politi^l oirclertnew h?m w^? 

"""Wni'^til^^V' '"■;* ""'« ^P"' him on his guL,^"" '^ 

Unluckily, the next occasion wtich brought him to his feet 

Tt^i- tk"".'" g"'^ .point to the feeling Lainst him On 

a certam Thursday, Serjeant Wathen moved ^at the Con^h 

object Tieing to save one member , and Vanghan, thkkKe 
opening favottrable, rose, intending to make a few reSs L 
a strain to which the House, always fond of a penoiml «lT 
tion IS apt to listen with indulgence. For tKotion ?tel?" 

dozen other cases a similar motion had failed. 

iio began well enough. 

"It can only be, Mr. Bernal," he said, addressing the 
Chairman of Oommittees-and this time thelouK hi^ 
«Zf'^li°-iP*r"^ hnn-«from a strict sen^ of duty tt 
cannot be without pam that any member-and I say th^ no? 

"No I No I " a voice cried. « Leave ns out 1 " 
The words were uttered so loudly and so mdelv thit be 
patted in some confusion, and looked'in the di"ction whenc^ 
tl^'^\-^\°'"^ "'^ "^ " No. °o ! Divide I No I No r 
poured on him from all parts of the House, accomMn ied bv a 
aroopmg fire of cat-calU*and cock-crows. HeZtWh^ 
of kis sentence, and for a moment stood confounded Th^ 
Chairman of Committees did not interfere, and for^ instant 
down ■" '^' ^""^ '^^'' ""''^^^ com^tkd to sit 

»nir?°w,?lf S?T^ ^^^^' ?""'''S co-'rage from tte very 
r^J^tZ 7^u^ •'" "'' ^*^^' ^nd which seemed out df 
proportion to hig importance. The moment a lull in the fire 
of interruption ojonrred, he spoke in a louder voice. 

1 say, sir, he proceeded, looking about him courageously, 



„8 CHIPPINGE 

"that it i8 only with pain, only nnder the M»J^^Z±l 

wViirh haa hononred him with Its confidence. 

' "DWdel Divide 1" roared many on both Bideg of the 

Honae " Cock-a-doodle-doo 1 Dool Dool 

Rnt thta fresh bnrst of disapproval fonnd him better pre- 
par^ nJXthongh the beifs of perspiration stood on hu. 

%Md^?hf ^ntinned, " in a case which appeals so n«^ly 
to himwl an hononrablo member sees tha the »'»°^a^ 
whicrSes the survival of a representative is reached with 
whlit g^ification, sir, with what earnestness, sir. whether he 

"'* ^."ifrf "tvet o^tTi^'a-^o^'^und. In truth the 
Tori« were ^certain on which side he was speaking. And 
" Divide ! Divide 1 " they shouted. 
» Or on that," he repeated. 

"M^t'he If prL it. cUims.:' he f^^^^-^-^ 
"and support its nteresto? Ay, su:,.ana 'd'^^^- "L*°? 
e^nt ofTocess. . decision at once just, and of so much 
advantage, I will not, say to himself-—- , 

"It never will be to yonl" shrieked » vo.^ from the 
ilnrkest comer nnder the opposite gallery. Never I 

TheSt w^t home. We faltered, paus^, tnf to go on. 
But a ^rot hmghter drowned his next words, and continued 
w lonrttot helave np the struggle and sat down with a 
??™5„„ f^. in some confusion, but in greater perplexity. 

The man glanced at him coldly. un no, as nmu. 
And he shrugged his shoulders. 

" oS'^ntrary, I fancy you've to <=o"KF»t"J?^ ^^^f^ 
his neiehbour continued with a sneer so faint that Jangban 
dd uot>ceive it. "I understand that we're to do «i we 



IN THE HOUSE 



139 



Iflw on this-and they know it on the other side. Yes, there's 
the^djvBion. I think," with the same sneer, "yoa'U sa^e y^n? 

He ^0% trfi;Sl2! """'^^- " ^"^ '""'' ■»''»■" 

aroS^i *" " ^^^t. °°'- /"^ SO Breat was the boon-tho 
greater, as no other boronsh was transferred in Committee- 

wL I'^^tu"""^ 'o' *^^ *■'■"« "'fi memoT of what had 
happned. The seat saved, it was odd if, 4ith the wid^ 
dectorate created by the Bill, he was not sure of hfaretZ. I 
a^nJt^^Z^ °u* Tl°^ "^''"^ Wa'hen-he, who had 
»C^v^'-?°'*°8? "°/ ^^ '«""-"«d by the AVh g interest. 
^XI^'^' T?°*^. ^^ "''^ "0 l°°g« feel so anxious 
parage of the BUI, was named. No longer need he be in so 
grrat a hornr to make his mark, so envious of Mr. Macanlav 
BO jealons of Mr. Sadler. ■» "^ jut. macaniay, 

hr,ri!^r^''J^J''l ^, ''•': Po'"'"*! ""eer was in question, the 
«. Tr '^^^ ^r ^ ."'^""e- « only other things had been 
StSirS''H " 0%^'^}^ beei some one, were it in a 
cottage at Hammersmith or in a dull street o6f Bloomsbnry 
^,S^i^'fj,°f''^r ^^ °"Sht take home this piece of news; 
an^tnJ^ i!"''5vy^''""''"^«I»'""6 ""ore brightly than his 
and another heart beat quick wSh joy I 

That could not be. There was an end of that. And his 
^ .grew gloomy again. Yet he was less unhappy. The 
certainty of a seat in the next Parliament was a CTcit point 
gained. A great point to the good. 



CHAPTER XXIV 



A BIOEI AHD LEFT 

If anything was certain in a political world so changed, it wm 
certain that if the Betorm Bill passed the Lords-in the t^th 
of those plaguy Bishops of whose opposition much was heard— 
a Dissolntion would immediately follow. To not a few of the 
members the contingency was a spectre, ever-present, seated at 
bed and board, and able to defy the rules even of Almacks 
and Crockford's. For how could a genUeman, who had ]nst 
given five thousand pounds for his seat, contemplate with 
iquaniinity a notice to quit, so rude and so premature ? And 
worse, a notice to quit which meant extrusion into a world m 
which seats at five thousand for a Parliament would be few 
and far between ; and fair agreements to pay a thousand a 
year while the privilege lasted would be unknown 1 

Many a member asked loudly and querulously, W hat wiU 
happen to the country if the Bill pass?" But more asked 
themselves in their hearts, and more often and more qnern- 
lonsly, " What will happen to me if the BiU pass ? How shaU 
I fare at the hands of these new constituencies, which, nn- 
welcome as a gipsy's braU, I am forced to bnng into the 
world ? " 

Hitherto few on his own side of the House, and not many 
on the Tory side, had regarded a Dissolution with more mis- 
Kiving than Arthur Vanghan. The borough for which he sat 
lay under doom, and he had no longer influence or prospects, 
or such a fortune as justified him in an appeal to one of tne 
new and populous constituencies. For the present, it vaa^ 
nleasant thing to go in and out by the door of the privUegea, 
to take his chop at Bellamy's, to lounge in the d.gmfi^ 
seclusion of the library, or to air his new honours in wesi- 
minster Hall. It was agreeable to have that sensation ot 
230 



A RIGHT AND LEFT 



331 



living at the hnb of things, to receive whips, to give fronki, 
to feel that the ladder of ambition was open to him. Bnt be 
knew that an experience of the Eoose connted by months did 
no man good ; and the prospect of losing his plnmes and 
going forth a_ common bipd had been the more rainfol to 
him beoanse his all was embarked in the venture. Ho might, 
indeed,_fall back on the bar j bnt with half a heart, and the 
repntation of a man who had tried to fly before he could walk. 

His relief, therefore, when Cbippinge— alone of all the 
Boroughs in Schedale A — ^was removed in Oommittee to 
Schedale B, was great. The road was open once more, while 
the exceptional nature of his luck almost persuaded him that 
he was reserved for greatness. True, Serjeant Wathen might 
pride himself on the same fact : but at the thought Vanghan 
smiled. The Serjeant and Sir Bobert would find it a trifle 
harder to deal with the hundred and odd voters whom the 
Act enfranchised than with the old Cripples. And very, very 
ungrateful would those hundred and odd be, if they cud not 
vote for the man who had made their canse his own. 

A load, indeed, was lifted from his mind, and for some 
days his relief could be read in the lightness of his step, and 
the returning gaiety of his eyes. He knew nothing of the 
things which were being whispered about Him. And though 
he had canse to fancy that he was not a ptrsona grata on bis 
own benches, he thought snfficiently'well of himself to set this 
down to jealousy. There is a stage in the life of a rising man 
when all hands are against him ; and those most cruelly which 
will presently applaud him most loudly. He flattered himselt 
that he had set a foot on the ladder : and while he waited for 
an opportunity to raise hi- ielf another step, he came as near 
to a kind of feverish happiness as thonghts of Mary, ever 
recurring when he was alone, would permit. For the time 
the loss of his prospects ceased to tronble him— he tried to 
think of other things. He lived less in his rooms, more 
among men. He was less crabbed, less moody. And so the 
weeks wore away in Committee, and a day or two after the 
Coronation the Bill came on for the third reading. 

The House was utterly weary. The leaders on both sides 
were reserving their strength for the final debate, and Tanghan 
had some hope that he mi^ht find an opportunity of spelling 
with effect, with this in his mind he was on his way across 
the Park about three in the afternoon, conning his peroration, 



a}* CHIPPINGE 

when a band was clapped on his Bhonlder, and he torned to 
find himielf face to face with FIIt 

So mnch had happened since luey had stood together on 
the hustinss, Vanghan's fortunes had changed so greatly since 
they had partod in anger in Queen's Sqnare, that he, at any 
rate, had no thought of bearing malice. To Flixton's " Well, 
my hearty, you're a neat artist, ain't yon ? tioing to the 
House, I take it ? " he gave a cordial answer. 

" Yes," he said. "That's it." 

" Bringing ruination on the country, eh ? " And llixton 
passed his arm through his, and walked on with him. " That's 
the ticket?" 

" Some say so, but I hope not." 

*' Hope's a cock that won't fight, my boy I " the Honour- 
able Bob rejoined. " Pact is, you're doing your best, only the 
House of Lords if in the way, and won't let you 1 They'll 
pull yon up sweetly, see if they don't ! " 

"And what will the country say to that?" Vanghan 
rejoined good-humouredly. 

" Country be d d I That's what all yon chaps are saymg. 

And I tell yon what 1 That book-in-breeches man— what do 
you call him— Macanlay ? — ought to be pulled up I He ought 
indeed. I read one of his farragoes the other day and it was 
full of nothing but 'Think long, I beg, before you thwart 
the public wUl 1 ' and ' The might of an angered people 1 ' 
and 'Let us beware of rousing I' and all that rubbish. 
Meaning, my boy, only he didn't dare to say it straight out, 
that if the Lords did not give way to yon chaps th»re'd be a 
revolution, and the dence to pay 1 And I say he ought to 
be in the dock. He's as bad as old Brereton down in Bristol, 
predicting fire and flames and all the rest of it." 

"But yon cannot deny, Flixton," Vanghan answered 
soberly, " that the country is excited as we have never known 
it excited before ? And that a rising is not impossible 1 " 

" A rising 1 I wish we could see one 1 That's jnst what 
we want," the Honourable Bob answered, stopping and bring- 
ing his companion to a sudden stand also. "Eh ? Who was 
that old Eoman— Poppsea, or some name like that, who said 
he wished the people fcd all one head that he might cut it 
off ? " suiting the action to the word with his cane. " A rising, 
begad ? The sooner the better ! The old Fourteenth would 
know how to deal with it I " 



A RIGHT AND LEFT jjj 

"I don't think that you would be so confident if you were 
once face to face with it I" Vaughan answered. 

" Oh, come I " 

" Well, bnt the position— 

"Oh, I know all abont that I Bnt I say, old chap," he 
continued, changing his tone, and descending abruptly from 
the poUtioal to the personal situation, "you've played your 
cards badly, haven't you ? Eh?" 

Vaughan fancied that he referred to Mary : or at best to 
his quarrel with Sir Bobert. And he froze 

"I won't discuss that," he said in a dilfeient tone. And 
ue moved on again. 

" Bnt I was there the evening you had the row 1 " 

" At Stapylton ? " 

"Yes." 

.'.' y*j \ " ^""8'""' ^^ "tiffly- " What of that ? " 
And, lord, man, why didn't you sing a bit small ? And 
tne old gentleman would have done no end for you 1 " 

•. . >7?°*"?? *'*'^' "'"' "*«' in ^w face- " I won't discuss 
It 1 ne said, vi. H a hint of violence in his tone 

"Very weU, very well I " Plixton repMed, with the super- 
abundant patience of the nan whose withers are not wrung. 
Bnt when you did get your seat, why didn't you come to 
terms with some one ? " with a wink. "As it is, what's tho 
good of being in the House three months, or six months— and 
out again ? " 

Vaughan wished most heartily that he had not met the 
Honourable Bob ; who, he remembered, had always possessed, 
hearty and jovial as he seemed, a singular knack of mbbinir 
mm tbe wrong way. 

" How do you faiow ? " he asked, with a touch of contempt 
— WM he, a rising Member of ParlUment, to be scolded after 

..^ .? ? " How do you know that I shaU be ont ? " 
you U be ont, if it's Chippinge you are looking to." 
Why so sure, my friend ? " 

Flixton winked with deeper meaning than before. "Ah. 
thats tdhng," he said. « Still-why not ? If you don't 
tear it from me, old chap, you'll soon hear it from some one. 
♦k 7* Jl°° • '' ^*"' became » little bird whispered to me 
tuat Ohippmge was-arranged ! That Sir Bobert and the 
lAusdownes understood one another j and whichever way it 
went, It would not come your way I " 



,j4 CHIPPINGE 

Vanghan reddened deeply. "I don't bdleve it," 1« »'* 

° » 5"id you know that Chippinge was going to be spared i " 
"No."' 
"They didn't tell yon?" 

" No " 

"Ah I " Bhmgging ' ^ ihonlderB and preparing to take 
his departure, "Well, other people knew, and there it m. 
1 may^ wrong, I hope I am, old chap. Hope I md- But 
Bnyw8:r, I mw^t be ^mg. I turn here. See you won, I 

''"''llid with awave of the hand the Honourable Bob marched 
off through Whitehall, his face breaking into a mMchievouB 
grin as soon as ho waa ont of Vanghan'a sight. „„y._o 

"Return hit for your Bnub,lli«8 Mary I" he mutter^. 
" Yon prick me, I prick him 1 And do him good, too I He 
was always a meet confounded prig." , 

MeanwhUe Vanghan strode on ™at Downrng Street j the 
oldlS^t, long swipt away, on which Walpolelved, and to 
wUchthe dymg Chatham was carried. And nnconspiously, 
nX the spnr of his angry thoughts, he quickened lu. pa^. 
1°^ incr^ible, it waTlnconceivable that »« ^^onsteous an 
kinstioe had been planned, or could be perpeteated. He^wto 
Sa stepped into tfc. breach, in his own despite ; ^e. 'I'O .^ 
rrfosed; ioscrupnlons had he been, to stand on a first mvitaUon 
£.To hadbJ^n elected ataiost ag^t h.s '^l-Q^;^^ 
thinks, to be set aside, and by his fnenda ! By WMe wbose 
nnsoUdted act it had been to return him and to put him into 
^position. It was impossible, he told bim^i t ms 
unthStoble I Were it so, the meanness of Pp^J^. ^*« ^ 
Zched iU apogee 1 The faithleesness of t^ Whigs, theur 
^ediUe treSry to their dependants, could need no other 

*"»?^not bear it I By Heaven, I'll not bear it I" he 

"""^'striding along in the hurry of 'ais - pWts as if he 
carried a broom and swept the whole Whig wrtv beforr him, 
^overtook no less a prison than rjeant WatW, who had 
been lunching at the Athenseum. , , . _. „v„ u 

The Seri^nt heard his voice and, turning, saw who it 
was. He fancied that Vanghan's words had been addressed to 
him. 



A RIGHT AND LEFT 835 

"I beg your pardon," he laid politely. "I did not catch 
what yon «ud, Mr. Yanghan." 

For a moment Vanghan glowered at him, ai If he would 
iweep him from his path, along with the Whiga. Then ont of 
the fulness of the heart the month spoke. 

" Mr. Sorjeont," he said, in a not very friendly tone, "do 
yon know anything of an agreement disposing of the future 
reproientation of Chippinge ? " 

The Serjeant, who knew all under the rose, looked shrewdly 
at hu companion to learn, if powble, what he knew. And, to 
gain time. 

" I beg yonr pardon," he said. "I don't think I quite 
understand y^n." ^ 

" I am told," Vanghan said haughtily, " that an agreement 
has been made to avoid a contest at Ohippinge." 

" Do yon mean," the Serjeant asked suavely, " at the next 
election, Mr. Vanghan ? " 

" At future eleci'ons I " 

The Serjeant sUagged his shoulders. " As a member," he 
said primly, " I take care to know nothing of such agreements. 
And I recommend yon, Mr. Vaughan, to adopt the same mle. 
For the rest," he added, with a candid smile, "I give you fair 
warning that I shall contest the seat. May I ask who was 
yonr informant ? " 

"Mr. FUiton." 

"Fliiton? Flixton? Ah I The gentleman who is to 
marry Miss Vermnyden I Well, I can only repeat that I, at 
any rate, am no party to any agreement." 

His slv look, which derided his companion's inexperience, 
said as plainly as a look could say, "Ton find the game of 
politics less simple than yon thought ? " And at another time 
It would have fired the younger man's anger. But as one 
TOUet drives out another, the Serjeant's reference to Mary 
Vermnyden had in one second driven the prime subject from 
Vaughan's mind. He did not speak for a moment ; and then 
with his face averted — 

" Is Mr. Fliiton^oing to marry Miss Vermnyden ? " he 
asked, in a constrained tone. " I had not heard of it." 

" I only heard it yesterday," the Serjeant replied. He was 
not unwilhng to shelve the other topic. " But it is rumoured, 
and I believe it is true. Quite a* romance, her story ? " he 
coatmned airily. "Quite a nine days' wonder! But"— ho 



•J« 



CHIPPINGE 



checked hinwilf lUrply-"! bep your pwdonl 1 wm for- 
mttinir now newly ft concerned yon. Dew me, dear me I 
Well. It ii • f»ir wtod, indeed, that Wowi no one any hum 1 

Vatwhan made no reply. He could not apeak, for the hard 
beating of hi. heart. Wathen looked at tun wqw^'velj; 
But the Serjeant had not the clue i he could only luipeot that 
the marriage touched the ether, becanae i*ue of it would tar 
hU chanw of aucoeesion. 80, though they walked lome du- 
tance together, no more wa. laid. . A. they cro-ed New 
Palace Yatd a member drew the Serjeant aaide, and Vaugha 
went np alone to the Lobby. 

But aU thought of apeaking waa gone from ^|^ mmd ; nor 
did the thinne* of the House when he entcttd tempt hun. 
There were hardly a hundred preaent, and theao were loUmg 
here and there with their hate on in tto duU hght of a 
September afternoon. A dozen more looked rieepdy from the 
mlUriet their arma flattened on the rail, their china on tbeir 
Sm.. There wenJ only a .vaple of Minirter. on the Treaanry 
Bench, whence Lord Jolin BniaeUwaa moving the third reading. 
No one aeemed to tnk oiuch interest in the matter ; a stranger 
entering at the 1.10 uent would have learned with amaament 
that this waa the mother of parliamenta, the renowned House 
of Commons, and with still greater imasement that the small 
bovish-lookiiig genUeman in the high-ooUared coat, and with 
liM moulded 5n Cupid's bow, who appeared to be makmg some 
^nnotory remarfa upon the state of tbe^oropa-^ be 
weather-was really advancing by an important stage the 
famous Bill, which had convutaed three kingdoms and was 
destined to change the political faoe of the land. 

Lord John sat down at length, thrusting his head at once 
into a packet of papers, which the gloom hardly permitted him 
to reacT A clerk at the table mumbled something ; a gentle- 
man on the other side of the House rose and began to spwk. 
He had not uttered many sentences, however, before the 
Members on the Beform benches awoke, not only to hfe, but 
to fury. Stentorian shouts of "Divide I 'Videl' rendered 
ihe sp^er inaudible : and after lookmg towards the door of 
the House more than once he sat down, and the House went 
to a Division. In a few minutes it was known that the Bill 
had been read a third time, by 113 to 58. . 

But the foreign gentleman would have m«Je a great mis- 
take had he gone away supposing that Lord Johns placid 



A RIGHT AND LEFT 



»37 



wonl»— and not thoae ipitefal ihonU— repre«ented the feolinM 
of the HooM. In tralh the flercert poMioni were at work 
under the rorfaoe. Among the fifty-eight who shrugged their 
ihonlden and accepted the verdict in gloomy silence were 
•ome primed with the flercest invectivea ; and othen, tongue- 
tied men who neTerthelcta believed that liord John BuMell 
wai a Republican, and Althorp a fool. There were certain 
that the Whigi, wittingly or unwittingly, were working the 
destruction of the country. Already they saw her dragged 
from the pride of place to which a nioely-balanccd Constitution 
had raised her, and laid, with her choicest traditions, at the 
feet of the rabble. Hen who believed such things, and saw 
the deed doing before their eyes, might accept their doom in 
silence— even as the King of old went silently to the Banqueting 
Hall hard by. But not with joy or easv hearts. 

Vaughan, therefore, was not the only one who walked into 
the Lobbv that evening, brooding darkly on his revenge. 
Yet he behaved himself as men so bred, so trained, do behave 
themselves. He held his peace. And no one dreamed, not 
even Orator Hunt, who sat not far from him under the shadow 
of his White Hat, that this well-connected young gentleman 
was revolving thoughts of the Social Order, and of the Party 
System, and of meet things which the Church Catechism com- 
mends, beside which that terrible Hadioal's own opinions were 
mere Tory prejndices. "The fickleness of women! The 
treachery of men I Oh, -ffitna, bury them ! Ob, Ocean, over- 
whelm them I Let all cease together and be no more I But 
give me sweet, oh sweet, oh sweet Revenge I " 



CHAPTER XXV 



I 



AT 8TAPTLT0H 

It was about a week before his enconntcr with Vanghan in 
the Park— and on a fine autnmn day— that the Honourable 
Bob, walking with Sir Robert by the Garden Pool, allowed his 
eyes to travel over the prospect. The smooth-shaven lawns, 
the stately, lichened house, the far-stretching park, with ita 
beech-knolls and slopes of verdure, he found all f air ; and 
when to these, when to the picture on which his bodily eyes 
rested, he added that portrait of Mary— in white muslin and 
blue ribbons, bowing her graceful head while Sir Robert read 
irayers— which he carried in his memory, he told himself that 
le was an uncommonly happy fellow. 

Beauty he might have had, wealth he might have had, 
family, too. But to alight on all in such perfection, to lose 
his heart where his head approved the step, was a gift of 
fortune so rare that, as he strutted and talked by the side of 
his host, his fpce braimed with ineffable good-hnmour. 

Nevertheless, for a few moments silence had fallen between 
the two ; and little by little Sir Robert's face had assumed 
a grave and downcast look. He sighed more than once, and 
when he spoke, it was to repeat in different words what he 
had already announced. ,. vn 

"Certainly, you may speak," he said, in a tone slightly 
formal. " And I can admit little doubt, Mr. Flixton, that 
your overtures will bo received as they deserve." .... 

" Tes ? Yes ? Flixton answered with manifest denght. 
" Yon think so ? You really think so. Sir Robert ? " 

" I think 80," hia host replied. " Not only because your 
suit is in every way eligible, and one which does ns honour." 
He bowed courteously as he uttered the compliment. " But 
because, Mr. Fliiton, for docility— and I think a hnshand may 

congratulate himself on the fact " 

238 



AT STAPYLTON ,3, 

"To be snro ! To bo sure I " Fliiton cried, not permittinis 
him to finish. " Yes, Sir Eobert, capital I Yon mean that if 
I am not a happy man " 

"It wUl not bo the fault of yoar wife," Sir Eobert said j 
remembermg with a faint twinge of conscience that the 
Uononrable Bob's past had not been without its histories. 
T, "J^°^ ,^7 f^' ^" Hobert, no I Yon're qnito right! 

By the Lord she's got an ank " He stopped abmptly, his 

month open, bethinking himself, when it was almost too late, 
that her father was not the person to whom to detail her 
personal charms. 

Bat Sir Bobert had not divined the end of the sentence.' 
He was a trifle deaf. 

"Yes? "he said. 

" She's an an — animated manner, I was going to say;" 
Flizton oontinacd with more readiness than fervour. And he 
blessed himself for his presence of mind. 

"Animated ? Yes, certainly animated. But, gentle also," 
Sir Eobert replied, " I should say that gentleness, and— and 
indeed, mj dear fellow, goodness, were the — the striking 
qualities in her. But perhaps I am saying more than 
I should ? " 

"Not at all I " Fliiton answered with heartiness. "Not 
at all I Gad, I could listen to you all day. Sir Eobert." 

He had listened, indeed, during a large part of the past 
week, and with so much effect that those histories to which 
reference has been made had almost faded from the elder 
man's mind. Fliiton seemed to him a hearty, manly young 
fellow, a little boastful and self-assertive, but remarkably 
sound. A soldier, who asked nothing better than to put down 
the rabble rout which was troubling the country ; a Tory, of 
precisely his, Sir Bobert's, opinions ; the younger son of a 
peer, too, and a West Country peer to boot. In fine, he 
deemed him a staunch, open-air patrician, with good old- 
fashioned instincts, and none of that intellectual conceit, none 
of those cranks and fads and follies, which had mined a man 
who also might have been Sir Bobert's son-in-law. 

With that man. Sir Bobert, partly becanse his conscience 
pricked him at times by suggesting impossible things and in- 
credible eicuses, was still bitterly angry. 80 angry that, had 
the Baronet been candid, he most have acknowledged that the 
honourable Bob's main virtue was his unlikenees to Arthur 



,40 CHIPPINGE 

Vaughati. It wa. in proportion «. h'. diff^^f^ ''??' '^* 
youn.r fellow who had bo meanly intrign^ .to gain hw 
^aSght^rt affections that Flixton appeared desmAle to the 
father. Kven those historiea proved that, at any rate, he naa 

Scd" Wrsened England, might clnsterabont his honse 
AlteF a^l and it the BUI wsaed, heTiad a seat alternately with 
the LaMdownes ; and inVfutkre which would know nothmg 
of LoriLoS's^to'-nine-tails, in which pocket boronghs 
would be r^e, and great peers wonld have scarce a represento- 
live ranch mieht be done with half a seat. .,,.., 
*''*fflnC%amme, Sir Eobert,-; Flixton cr,ed. " ^^^^^^ 

the Uttle beau-hem l-there she is, I mean. With your 

^'^^°y'S.'by"«n i^eans." Sir Bobert a^wered in- 
dnleentlT. " Yon need not stand on ceremony with me. 

XaL wJied for no more. Po«iblT ^e had no mmd to 
he bored now that he had gained what he wanted. He 
hurri^dX Mm figure wiSi the floating white skirte and 
thXghora hat, which had descend^ the stejs "^ *»«^°°!!' 
moved lightly a^oss the lawns-and vanished. He gne^, 
Wever whither she was bound. He knew that Ae had a 
EfOT walking in the wilderness behind the house ; a 
S wood which^ already beginning to put on its autumn 

X^i ™« """"K"^ r**"^^ *° ::.'^i°dis"S™"^ ^r 

smooth erev trunks where three paths met, he discerned Her 
a WrS%S away, walking slowly from him with her eyes 

'*"^8onirrel8l" Fliiton thought. And he made up his 
mindl? briS the terriers and 7ave a hunt on the following 
sSSday afternoon. In the mean time he^d J^o'^er quarry 
in view, and he made after the white-f rocked tore. 

M^ hcMd his tread on the caifet »f *7 beech-leaves, 
andl7tuS.^drtn. She W<2*e onton pnr^^ 
tn he alone that she might consider at ^r leisure tne fresn 
t^d Mtonishing views which, in this hew life, were daily 
owning lEir Or po«ibly that ^ but a pretext ; w 



1 



AT STAPYLTON j^i 

excase to herself, and an explanation to others of a love of 
Bolitnde, which waa not natural at her age. For, for certain 
amid sombre thoughts of her mother, she continued to think 
Sn^ TTLTT*""'"*'^ °^ """''"' = "^ happiness which 
«n5 • if r^f '^ '•y ^" O"" *°' ' of weakness, aSd cowardice, 

wit ""ntem t "^'^ * '°"°''' ''^"' ''"' '''"™*^ ''^'' 

wiiw "' 'n*l^Q?'"i, T'* °°* oyerjoyed when she saw Mr. 
K?;» f?l S T Kf^^ was so far right in his estimate of 
her nature, that she hated to give pain. It was there, perhaps 

HA,!^'„™>,r*^ k'*?' *'"^, '>,'«* "*»''• ^n-i «>. ^i^e the 
Uonourable Bob, she smded pleasantly on him. 

•j" ^Su ^I® discovered a favourite haunt of mine," she 
said. She did not add that she spent a few minutes of everv 
day there ; that the smooth beech-trunks knew the touch of 
her bnrnin| cheeks, and the rustle of the falling leaves the 
whisper of ler penitence. Daily she returned by way of the 
Kennel Path, and there breathed a prayer for her mother, 
where a mother's arms had first enfolded her, and a mother's 
kissM won her love. What she did add was, " I often come here " 
, ^^.V ^°^. ^°" *^ Honourable Bob replied, with 'a 
look of admiration. "I assure yon. Miss Mary, I could 
astonish yon with the things I know about von ! " 

"Eeally?" ' 

"Oh yes— really!" 

There was a significant chuckle in his voice which brought 
the blood to her cheeks. But she was determined to itmore 
Its meamng. •6"''"' 

" Yon are observant ? " she said. 
_ _ "Of those— VM, by Jove, I am of those I admire, he re- 
join^ eagerly. He had had it on his tongue to say "those I 
love, but she turned her eyes on him at the critical moment, 
and though he waa domg a thing which he had often done 
and he had impudence enough, his tongue faUed him. There 
are women so naturally modest that, until the one man who 
awakens the heart appears, it seems an outrage to speak to 
them of love. Mary -Vermuyden, partly by reason rf her 
bnngmg up, was one of these ; and though Flixton had had 
little to do with women of her kind, he recognised the fact 
and bow^ to it. He was here with her father's leave to 
•peak to her ; yet he found himself less at his ease than on 



,4, CHIPPINGE 

many a leM legitimate oooasion. ;' Yes, by Jove," he repeated. 
« I obserre them, I can tell yoa. 

m^Unghed. "Somt are more qniok to notice than 

°*""ind to^tioe some than others I " he rejoined. " That 
jg what I mean. Now, that old girl who is with yon-— 
"MiBB Sibeon?" Mary said, setting him right with 

^'^"To be sure I She isn't young, is she ? Anvway, yon 
don't Buppoae I conld say what she wore yesterday 1 But 

what TOT Wi, Miss Maiy- " he tried to catch her eye and 

SeV^'^, Lld^tYl,, But then yon don't wear powder 
on Tonr nose, nor need it 1 . .» t,„ 

"I don't wear it," she answered, langhmg m spite of her- 
self " But you don't know what I may do some day I ilM 
for Miss SibSon, it does not matter, Mr. Fhxton, what she 
wLiS She has one of the kindest hearts, and was ope of the 
St friends I had-or could have had-when things were 

different with me." . , „' , • ■ j « v-» ....-vk. i 

"Oh yes, good old prl," he rejomid, « but snnbby ! 
Bitten my nosl off two or three times, I know. And come 
now not anite an angel, you know. Miss Mary I 

•'• miC' Ae Mplie^ smiling, " she is not, perhaps, an angel 

*°^^Shf CLn'?*b;7"For she is not like yon I "he cried 
PTnlUntlv "And you are one 1 Yon are the angel for me I 
iS ai h« wirimpa-rioned eye^ "I'll never want 

another, nor ask to see one I " iv v i,. ».<»..» 

His look frightened her; she began to ttink he meant- 
somethine. And she took a new way wiOi him. 
something. ^ ^^^ ^ tWhtfuUy, • thatpeople 

say tlZ things! Because thev^somid so very siUy-to one 
who has not lived in your world. ^^-fl^,!™ . .„j 

" SiUv I " Flixton repUed, in a tone of mortification s and 
for a moment he felt tEe check. He was realW m love to a 
SSdeZ^nt, and on the way to be more deeply m ove, 
we« hrthwarted. Therefore he W to a moderate exten^ 
aS^iA of her. And •' SiUy ? " he repeated. " Ob, but I mean 
fthelp me t I do inSeed! Itrnot silly to caU JO" •" 
aAgei, for^I swear yon are as beautiful as one. Thats true 

'°^« How' many have you seen ? And what coloured wings 



AT STAPYLTON ,43 

had they?" she wked, ridicnling him. Bat her cheek was 
not. Don t 887, If you please," she continued, before he 
oonld speak, "that you've seen me. Because that is only 

-Z!S?nf^"'°i/''"TJ°°.'''?,,?''^' ^- ^'«'<"'- And that fa 
worse than silly. It is dull." 

" Miss Mary," he cried pathetically, "you don't understand 
Stand—" '" *"°" '°°~^ **"' *° "^^^ y°" ^^^'^' 

"Hush I "she said, cutting him short, in an earnest 
whisper. And halting, she extended a hand behind her to 
stay him. "Please don't speak 1 " she continued. "Do you 
see the beauties ? Flying round and round the tree after one 
another faster than your eyes can foUow them. One, two, 
three— three squirrels I I never saw one, do yon know," she 
went on ma tone of hushed rapture, " until I came here. And 
until now I never saw them at play. Oh, who could harm 
tnem ? 

He stood behind her, biting his lip with vexation, and 
quite untouched by the scene, which, whether her raptures 
were feigned or not, was warrant for them. Hitherto be had 
had to do with women who met him halfway ; who bridled 
at a compliment, were alive to an equivoque, and knew how to 
siiijulate, if they did not feel, a soft confusion under his gaze, 
lor this reason Mary's backwardness, her easy manner, her 
apparent beUet that they were friends of the same sex, puzzled 
him, nw, angered him. As she stood now, a hand extended 
to check his advance, the sunshine which filtered through the 
beech-leaves cast a soft radiance on her figure. She seemed 
more dainty, more graceful, more virginal than aught that he 
had ever encountered in the garb of woman. It was in vain 
that he told himself, with irritation, that she was but a girl 
after all: that, under her aloofness, she was a woman like the 
othera ; as vain, passionate, fiighty, as jealous as other women. 
He knew that he stood in awe of her. He knew that the 
words which he had many a time uttered so lightly— to those 
to whom he had no right to address them— stuck in his throat 
now. He wanted to say, " I love you ! " and he had the right 
to say it. Yet he dared not. All the boldness which he had 
exhibited in her presence in Queen's Square— where another 
had stood tongue-tied — was gone. 

He took at last a desperate step. The girl was within arm's 
reach of him; her delicate waist, the creamy white of her 



»44 



CHIPPINGE 



slender Beck, invited him. Be she never so innocent, never so 
maidenly, a kiss, he told himself, would awaken her. It wa« 
hi3 experience, it was a scrap drawn from his store of worldly 
wisdom, that a woman kissed was a woman won. 

As he thought of it, his heart began to riot, as it had not 
rioted from that cause since he had kissed the tobacconist's 
daughter at Kieter ; his first essay in gallantry. Only the 
bold, he reminded himself, deserve the fair ! How often had 
he boasted that, where women were concerned, lips were made 
for other things than talking I 

And — and in a moment it was done. 

Twice 1 Then she slipped from his grasp, and stood at 
bay with flaming cheeks and eyes that — tliat had certoinly not 
ceased to be virginal. 

" You I You 1 " she cried, barely able to artic1]late. " Don t 
touch me I " .31. 

Bhe had been taken utterly, wholly by surpruie i and the 
shock was increased by the facto of her bringing-up, and the 
restraints and traditions of school-life. In his grasp, with 
his hot breath on her cheek, all those notions about ravening 
wolves and the danger which attached to beauty in low places 
— notions no longer applicable, had she taken time to reason — 
returned upon her in force. The man had kissed her. 

" How — how dare you ? " she continued, trembling with 
rage and indignation. 

" But your father " 

" How dare you ? " 

" Yonr father sent me," be pleaded, crestfallen. " He gave 
me leave " 

" To insolt me ? " she cried. 

"No, but— but you won't understand 1 " he reasoned quern- 
lonsly. He was quite chapfallen. " Yon don't listen to me. 
I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife. Yonr father 
said I might come to you, and—and ask you. And— you'll 
say ' Yes,' won't you— without any silliness ? That's a good 
girl!" 

" Never," she answered. 

He stared at her, and turned very red. " Oh, nonsense 1 
he stammered. And he made as if be would go nearer. 
" You don't mean it. My dear girl. Listen to me 1 1 do 
love you I And I— I tell yon what it is, I— never loved any 
woman " 



AT STAPYLTON 34; 

go m"' '^^ ^°°^^ *' '^ '" '"* * '^y "'■' •" ''°"'^ "«»' 
"bo not Bay thoM thineg I" ghe nid. And har anrterity 

"He did!" 
my f Jlta^'^* ^'"^ °°''" ** "P""^ "*•* ^'«^"y' " ""deistand 

..v"^u'^^°* T"" """' """fy """"e one," he compUined. 

.At .?' yon/e making a great fuss about nothinir I " 
Nothing I 'she cried, her eyes sparkling anew. "You 
msnlt me, Mr. Flixton, and " »"»••• 

" K 8 man may not kiss the girl he wants to marry " 

If she does not want to marry him ? " she retorted with 
fine contempt. « What then ? " 

"Bat it s not as bad as that," he pleaded. " No, by Jove. 
Yon U not be so crnel. Come, Miss fcry, listen, listen to me 
a minnte. You must marry some one, you know. You are 
yonng, and I m sure you've the right to choose—" 

"I've heard enoi^h," she struck in, interrupting him with 
something of Sir Eobert's hantenr. " I understand now what 
you fneant, and I foigive yon. I forgive yon. But I can never 
be anything to you, Mr. Flixton." 

u "^°°'*" 'IB everything to me," he declared. It couldn't. 
It rea ly couldn t be that she meant to refuse him I Finallv 
and altogether ! ' 

"But you can be nothing to me I" she answered 
[i'S .?~'1'yv5™,f 'y '"' ^^''' •">' ter cheek was tingling. 
"Nothmg! >iothingl And that baing so, I beg that yon 
wiU leave me." o > -o j 

He looked at her with a mixture of supplication, resentment, 
chagnn. But she showed no sign of relenting. 

"You really— yon reaUy do mean it I" he muttered 
with a sickly smile. " Come, Miss Mary, think of it 1 " 

" Don't 1 Don't I" she cried, as it his words pained 
ber. And that was all. "Please go," she said, "or I 
shall go.' 

The Honourable Bob's conceit had been so far taken out of 
mm, that he felt that he could make no further fight at this 
time. He could see no sign of relenting, and feeUng that, with 
all his expenence, he had played his canto ill, he gave up the 
struggle. 



948 



CHIPPINGE 



"Oh, I will go," he laid. And he longed to add Kme- 
ihing wittT, as he torned awar. Bat he conld not add any- 
thing. He, Bob Fliiton, the hero of bo many hontui fortuna, 
to be refumd t He had laid his all, and pour U ban mod/, at 
the feet of a girl who bat yesterday was a little schoofanistiess. 
Andshebadrefosedhimt Itwasimposiblcl It was incredible I 
Bat, alas I it was also a fact. 

He retamed to the hotue ; and Mary, the moment his back 
was tamed, harried towards Uie Kennels to hide her hot cheeks 
and calm her feeliiuR in tiie depths of the shrnbbeiy. Oddly 
enongh, her first thonghts were less of that which had just 
happened to her than of that salt which had been paid to her 
months before. This man might loTe her or not ; she conld 
not tell. But Arthur Vanghui had loved her r the fashion of 
this love tanght her to prize the fashion of that. 

He had loved her. And if he had treated her as Mr. 
Flixton had treated her, would, she have clang to him— she 
wondered in a tamult of feeling. She believed that she wonld. 
But the mere thought set her Imees trembling, made her cheeks 
flame afresh, filled her with rapture. Bo that, shamefaced, 
frightened, glancing this way and that, as one hunted, she 
longed to be within doors, longed to he safe in her room, there 
to cry at her ease. 

Donbtleas it was natural that the incident should turn 
her thoughts to that other love-making, and presently to her 
father's £slike of that other lover. She could not understand 
that dislike ; for the Bill, and the Borough, Franchise or No 
Franchise, were nothing to her. And the grievance, when 
Sir Bobert had essayed to explain it, bad been nothing. To 
her mind Trafalgar and Waterloo and the greatness of England 
were the work of Kelson and Wellington— at the remotest 
perhaps, of Mr. Pitt and Lord Oastlereagh. She conld net 
enter into the reasoning which attribnted these and all other 
blessings of her connt^ to a System I To a System, which 
her lovw, it seemed, was pledged to destroy. 

She walked untU the heat of her cheeks had somewhat 
abated, and then, yearning for the securitT of her own chamber, 
she made for the house. She saw nothing of Flixton; no 
one was stirring. Already she thonght herself safe ; so that 
it seemed the very spirit of mischief which toonght her, at 
the comer of the charcb, face to face with her father. Sir 
Bobcrt's brow was clouded, and the " My dear, one m<»Bent/* 



AT STAPYLTON 



»47 



with which he stayed her, wh pitched in a moie ded«ive key 
tban he commonly naed to her. 

" I wUh to ipeak to yon, Mary," he oontinned. " WiU jon 
come with me to the KbMy?" ' 

She would fain have Metponed any diacnuion on Mr. 
Uluton; but her father, affectionate and mild, was still nn- 
familiM-, and she had not the courage to make her petition. 
She followed him, with a sinking heart, to the library. And 
when he pomted to a seat, she was glad to sit down. 
1 ,^f ^^ "P *"" "'"' position on the hearthmg, whence he 
looked at her gravely before be spoke. At length— 

" My dear," he said, " I am sorry for thisTuiongh I do not 
blame yon 1 I think that yon do not nnderstand— owing to 
^T ,™''**°" ?^ Joxa early life which have otherwise, t&nk 
Uod, left so slight a mark upon yon— that there are things 
which at yonr age yon mnst leave to the decision of your 

, .?^* looked at him, and there was not that complete 
aocih^ in her look which he expected to find. 

" I don't think I nnder8tan(C sir," she mnrmnred. 
...I.". y*"" ."?° *"^^ understand this, Mary," he replied, 
"that vonng girls of your age, without experience of life or of 
—of the darker side of things, cannot be aUowed to judge for 
themselves on aU occasions. There are sometimes cireum- 
stanoCT to be weighed which it is not pouible to detaU to 
them." 

She dosed her eyes for an instant to collect her thoughts. 

But— but, p, she said, "yon cannot wish me to have no 
will— no choice — ^in a matter which affects me so nearly." 

« No," he said, speaking seriously and abnost sternly, •' but 
that will and that choice must be guided. Your feelmgs are 
natural— God forbid that I should think them otherwise I But 
yon must leave the decision to me." 

She looked at him, aghast. She had heard, but had never 
^fllIeyed, that in the upper classes matches were arranged after 

u fashion. But to have no will and no chcice in such a 

Jig as marriage I She must be dreaming. 
" You cannot," he continued, looking at her firmly bat not 
nnUndly, "have cither the knowledge of the past," with a 
Blight grimace, as of pain, "or the experience needful to 
enable you to measure the result of the step yon take. Yon 
most, therefore, let yonr seniors decide for you." 



MS 



CHIPFINGE 



"Bat I oonld never— never," ihe aniwered, with » deep 
Unih, " many a num witliont — likiDg him, lir." 

" Many 7 " Sir Robert repeated. He atared at her. 

She retnmed the look. "I thonght, lir," ihe faltered, with 
a itill deeper bloih, *' that yon were talking of that." 

" Mt dear," he Mtid gravely, " I am referring to the inject 
on whion I — I oertainlv nnderrtood that yon reqneated Miia 
Bibion to ipeak to me. 

" My mother 1 " ihe whiipered, her oolonr fading tnddenly. 

He paoaed a moment. Then, "Ijn wonld oblige me," 
he laid ilowlv and formally, "by calling her Lady Sybil 
Yermnyden I " 

" Bnt ihe ii — my mother," ihe proteated. 

He looked at her, his head ilightly bowed, hii lower lip 
thrnit ont. 

"Liiten," he laid. "What yon propoae— to go to her, 
I mean — ia impoHible. ImpoMible, let that be thoronghly 
nndentood. Tneie moat be an end of any thought of it I 
Hii tone waa oold, bnt not nnkind. " The thing mnit not be 
mentioned again, if von pleeie, Mary." 

She was lilent for a moment. Then, "Why, sir?" ihe 
aaked. She spoke tremnlonily, and with an effort. Hot he 
had not expected her to apeak at all. 

Yet he merely continned, as he stood on the hearthmg, to 
look at her askance. 

" That is for me," he said, " to decide." 

"Bnt " 

"Bnt I will tell von" he nid ttUBj. "Became ihe bu 
already mined part of yonr life I " 

" I forgive ner, from my heart 1 " 

" And mined also," he continned, disregarding the inter- 
. raption, " a great part of mine. At yonr age I do not think 
fit to tell yon all. It ia enongh that she robbed me of yon, 
and deceived me. Deceived me," he repeated more bitterly, 
" throngh long yean when yon, my danghter, might have been 
my comfort and— my joy." 

The last words were almost inandible and with them he 
tnmed his back on her, and paced the room, his chin snnk on 
his breast. It was clear to Mary, watching him with pitying 
eyes, that his thoqikts were with the nnhappy post ; with the 
short fever, the igiHI|B contentions of his married life, or with 
the lonely, soured jmn which had followed ; that he waa 



AT STAPYLTON 



»49 



I were warm 



S2!"i. \^ r*?'* "^ *^* "f** 0' W« '•'«• "d the (low 
dry-rot which had Mppwl hope, and itrength, and development. 

Maty waited notil hit itep trod the carpet l«r '^~ ' " 
Then, ai he paoied to turn, ihe stepped forwaid. 

Yet, ur, forgive her I " ihe oned ; and there 
teors in her voice. " Forgive her I " 

He turned and looked at her. Powibly he was astoniehed 
at her temerity. 

I^t'K Ihet?"'''"' '"'■'' °''''^'''- "^*^*" ^•^*" 

.„.i^' }^ ^ 5*^" dreaminif of this moment for days ; 
and «he had rewlved that, come what might, though he froWn. 
though bu tone grow hard and his eye angir, though he bring 
to bear on her the stemneai of hii visage, .he wdnld not te 
found tacking a second time. She would not again give way 
to her besettme weakness, and spend sleepless mgbts in futile 
remorse Dxffiaence in the lonely schoolmistress had been 
pardonable, had been natural. But now, if she were indeed 
sprung from those who had a right to hold their heads abore 
the crowd, if the doffed haU which greeted her when she went 
abroad, m the streets of Chippinge as well as in the lanes and 
roads— If these meant anything, shame on her if she proved 
craven. 

" It cannot be the end, sir," she said in a low voice. " For 
she is-still my mother. And she is alone and ill. And she 
needs me. 

He had begun to pace the room anew— this time with an 
impatient, angry step. Bnt at the sound of her voice he stood 
and faced her, and she needed all her courage to support the 
gloom of his look. 

"How do you know?" he retorted. For Miss Sibson, 
diMharging an ungrateful task, had not entered into details. 
Have you seen her ? " 

^ ?'j ^^ *® °""' i"^8« f*"" herself. And though her 
mothOT h^ said something to the contrary, and hitherto sbe 
had obeyed her, sbe thought it best to tell all. 

" Tes, sir," she said. 

"When?" 

"A fortnight ago," she replied; though she trembled 
under the grwnng severity of his look. 

" Here ? " 

" In the grounds, sir." 



»50 



CHIPPINGE 



" And yoa never told me I " he cried. " Too never told 
me I " he repeeted, with • itnuin glance, » gluce which 
■trave with ibrinkinK to diicem the mother's (eatorei in the 
daughter's face. " ion, too— yon, too, have learnt to deceive 
mo 1 " And lie threw np his hands. 

" Ob uo, no I " she cried, infinitely distressed. 

" Bat Ton have deceived me I " he rejoined. " Too, too I 
Yon have kept this from me." 

" Only, Mlieve me, sir," she cried, " nntil I conld find a 
fitting time." 

" And now yon want to go to her I " he continned, nnheed- 
ing, and with the same gesture of despair. " She has snbomed 
yon 1 She, who has done the greatest wrong to yon, has now 
done the last wrong to me I ''^ He began again to pace np 
and down the room. 

" Oh no, no t " she sobbed. 

" It is BO t " he answered darting an angry glance at her. 
•' It is so I Bat I shall not let yon go I Do yon hear, girl ? 
I shall not let yon go I I have Buffered enough I No P' he 
continned with a gesture which called those walls to witness 
to the hnmiliations, the sorrows, the loneliness, from which he 
had Bonght refuge within them. " I will not suffer again. 
I will not I Yon shall not go I " 

She was full of love for him, and of pity. Even that gestuie 
and the past wretchedness to which it bore witness were patent 
to her ; and she yearned to comfort him, and to convince him 
that nothing that had happened, nothing that could happen, 
would set her against him. Had he been seated she would 
have knelt and based his hand, or cast herself on his breast, 
and won him to her. Bat as he walked she conld not a]>proach 
him, she did not know how to soften him. Her duty, indeed, 
was clear ; it lay beside her dying mother. Yet, if he forbade 
her to go, if he withstood her, how was she to perform it ? 

At length: "But if she is dying, sir," she mormured. 
" Will yon not then let me go to her ? 

He looked at her from under his eyebrows. " I tell you I 
will not let you go I " he said. " She has forfeited her right to 
yon. When she made yon die to me, yon died to her t That 
u my decision. Yon hear me ? That is my decision. And 
now — now," he continued, striving to r^ain his composure, 
** let there be an end t I say — let there be an end I " 

She stood silenced, but not conquered, knowing him more 



AT STAPYLTON ,j, 

intimately thM ih« had known him befon , loTiog him not 
leH bat morej^ilnco pity and iympathy entered into Tier love i 
but urared that he win wrong. It could not be her duty to 
fonake, it mnxi be hi* duty to forgive, fint for the present 
ibe Mw that in ipito of hii effort! and hif apparent firmneM he 

JTf?*"^ "^^t*^ ' '^^ '«" *^ •h« lud itirred panga lone 
Inlled to re«t, that he had borne u mnch a« he oonS bear 
And ihe would not prcra him farther for the present 

Meanwhile, he, oi he stood fingering his trembling lit«, 
was trying to bring the canning of age to bear. He won 

!ifl!S^ "^T*?* •"'■ P'^^tV ^^^ iMd been too mnch alone, ho 
refieotod ; that was it. He had forgotten that she was wnng, 
and that chuge and movement and fife and gaiety were n«af*l 
for her. This notion aboat-that woman, was an oUmou, 
an nnwholesome fancy, which a few days in a new i kce rj,d 
amid hvely scenes wonld weaken, and perhaps remove. Aii.l 
by-and-by, when he thought that ho could trust his voice he 
spoke. ' 

"I said, Let there be an end I" he began. "Bnt— vou 
are all I have, and I will say instead, Let this be for a time. 
I must have space to think. Yon want— there are many 
tuings yon want that you ought to have— frocks and laces, 
ud gewgaws," he continued, with a sickly smile— "Mdl 
know Mt what, that yon cannot get here, nor I choose for you. 
Lady Worcester has offered to take yon to town— she goes the 
day after to-morrow. I was uncertain this morning whether to 
send you or not, whether I could spare yon or not. Now, I say 
go. Qo, and when yon retnm, Mary, we will talk again " 

' And thai," she pleaded softly, " yon will let me go ? " 
never I he cried, forgetting himself, and lifting his head 
witb an uncontrollable recurrence of rage. Never 1" But 
there, there! There I there! I shaU have thought it over- 
more at leisure. Perhaps ; I don't know I I wiU tell you 
then. I will think it over ! " ' 

She saw with clear eyes that this was bnt an evasion j that 
he was deceivmg her. But she felt no resentment, only pity. 
Hbe had no reason to think that her mother needed her on the 
instant, and much was gained by the discussion nf the subject. 
At least he promised to consider it -, and though he meant 
nothing, though he meant at best to amuse her, perhaps when 
he was alone he wonld think of his wife, and more piUfolly. 
She was snre that he would. 



•s« 



CHIPPINGE 



"I vill go if yon wish it," she aaid. She would ihow 
herself obedient in all things lawful. ^ 

" I do wish it," he answered. " My dungbter mnst know 
her way in the world. Go and enjoy vonrself, and Lady 
Worcester will take care of yon. And whfli — when yon come 
back we will talk. We will talk. Yon will have things to 
prepare, my dear," he continued, avoiding her eyes, " a good 
deal to prepare, I dare say, since this is sudden. Yon had 
better go now. I think that is all." 



CHAPTER XXVI 

THE SOKBB nr THE HALI, 

.^^J^y" VAUOHiH had not been slow to see that he could not 

^nil^.i?"^ ^'""??1. *' » '»"»<^- B°t. had he been lew 
throueh the Commons most have availed top^nade him. 
^^Z **"■'"'• "ords of warning to t£e country, their 
Mlemn remonstiancM might have mow effect, the mLa«n 
of the Opposition had permitted the third reading to be car?i^ 
m the maimer which has been described. Bnt, that doM 
hey mimasked all their forces, bent on proving that if iX' 

hS <S.L"^''^' 'it'f"'^ °^ "gnment, bnt of pablic feeling 
bAmd them j and that, not onlj in the connt.^, but in th? 

S^& ^°S!- ^}^ ""' *''« ^'*^^ »°^e<='ive oi Croker, the 
mingled gibes and predictions of Wetherell, the close and 
7^i^Z "^wning of W the precedents of Sagden. conU do 

^ZZli^'^i^l^ '^'^ *•"> P^-i™*. '™' done. The 
ana^t chamber which was never again to echo the accents of 

ft t^ "? 1*^^' "''■'* ?<^' ^^' "•"'dy doomed, as if 
^dd not long survive the order of things of which it had 
^for generations the centre, had heard, it may be. speeches 
more lofty, men more eloquent— for whom had it not heard ? 
-out never men more in earnest, or words more keenly barbed 
pL^t P^J^diMs of the passing or the aspirations of the 
^niSf k"^** 1 °° ""t T "de were those who coald see 
nought but glory m the bygone, nought but peril in change. 

?„1 _5,"'"'.'^°* *''°~ strenuous aim it w^ to make tlie 
fntwe redress the wrongs of the past. The former were like 
^-^SH^ "*'^? "■? ^™*d' hangings which tapestried the 
Mighbonnng Chamber, and seeing only the fair^nt : the 
latter resembled the same children picking with soiled fingers 
253 



»S4 



CHIPPINGE 



at the backing, coarse, dnsty, and cobwebbed, which for two 
hondred Tears bad dnne to we roughened masonry. 

Vanghau sat through the three nights, brooding darkly on 
the teats performed before him. If they who fought in the 
ai-ena were not giants, if the House no longer held a match 
for Canning and Brougham, the combatants seemed giants to 
him ; for a man's opinion of himself is never far from the 
opinion which otiieni hold of him. And he soon perceired 
that a common soldier might as easily step from the ranks and 
set the battle in order as he, Arthur Vanghan, rise up without 
farther tiaining, and lead the attack or cover the defence. 
He sat soured and gloomy, a mere spectator ; dwelling, even 
while he admired the flowery periods of Maowilay or the 
trenchant arguments of Peel, on the wrong done to himself by 
the disposal of his seat. 

It was so like the Whigs, he told himself. On the floor of 
the House, who so loud as they in defence of the rairity of 
electiom, of the people's right to be repwtented, d the 
unbiMied vote of the electors ? But behind the scenes they 
were as keenly bent aa they had ever been on jobbing » seat 
here, or neutralising a seat there — and aa ca«eleM of the 
people's rwfats ! It was atrocious, it was shameful I If tUs 
were politeal life, if this were political honesty, he had bad 
enough of it, and too much I 

But alM, though he said it in his anger, there was the rub ! 
He had not had, and now he was not likely to have, enough 
of it. His mipopnlarity, which he had come to perceive, as a 
man grows dowly to perceive a frostiness in the air, had 
sapped his self-confidence and insensibly lowered his claims. 
He no longer dreamt of rising and outshining the chiefs of his 
party. But he still believed that he had it in him to succeed, 
were time given him. And all through the long hours of the 
three nights' debate, his thoughts were as often on his wrongs 
as on the momentous struggle which was passing before his 
eyes, and for the issue of which the olnbs of London were 
keeping vigil. 

But enthusiasm is infectious. When the tellers for the 
last time walked up to the table, at five o'clock on the morn- 
ing of September 22nd, with the grey light stealing in to 
stame the candles and betray the jaded faces— when he and 
all men knew that for them the end of the great struggle was 
come — Vaughan waited, breathless, with the rest and strained 



THE SCENK IN THE HALL ,55 

hi. ean to catch the result. And when on the annonncement 
peel upon peel of fierce cheering shook the oH panels in their 
iJTJ^' 'It' ^'?K i^ken nP by waiting crowds outside, carried 
the news through the dawn to the very skirts of London— the 
news that Eeform had passed the People's House, and that 
only the PMrs now stood between the country and its desire- 
he shared the tnumi)h and shouted with the rest, shook hands 
with the exultant neighbonra, and waved his hat, pewpirine. 
But in hM case the feeling of exultation was shortlived • 

U}^ 'a t^ T^ f Y^""! *"<"''«■•• "•«» ™»red himself 
hoarse and showed a gleeful face to the daylight. Certainly 
It was something to have taken part in such a scene, thi 
cneniory of which must survive for generations. He lieht 
tell It m days to come to his grandchUdren. But for hun 
persM^ly, It meant that aU was over : that here, if the Lorfs' 
passed the Bill, was the end. A Dictation must foUow, and 
when the House met again, his place would know him no 
more. He would be gone, and no man would feel the blank 
_ Nor were leas selfish doubts wanting. As he stood, caueht 
m the press, awaiting his turn to escape from the crowded 
House, hu ey^ rested on the scowUng faces which dotted the 
opposite benches, the faces of men who, honestly believine 
that hpr« ftad now, the old Constitution of England had ert 
ite death-Wow, could not hide their chagrin, or their scorn of 
the foe He, at any rate, could not view those men without 
sympathy; without the possibility that they were right weieh- 
ing on his spints; without a touch of fear that this might 
indeed be tiie begmmng of decay, the starting-point of that 
decadence which every generation since Queen Anne's had 
foreseen. For if many on that side represented no one but 
themselves, they still reriresented vast interesta, huge incomes, 
immense taxation. They were those who, if England sank! 
had most to lose. He indeed, had given up ahnost his all 
that he might stand aloof from them— because he thought 
them prejudiced, wrong-headed, unreasonable. But he wa- 
tinned to respect them. And— what if they were right ? 
. Meanwhile the persistent cheering of his friends began to 
jar on his tired nerves. He seemed to see in it a beginning 
of disorder, of license, of revolution, of those evils which the 
other party foretold. And then he had small liking for the 
statistic of the bloodless Hume ; and Hume, with his arm 
ftDont his favourite pillar, was high among the triumphant. 



as* 



CHIPPINGE 



Hard by him agwn was the tall thin form of Orator Hant, 
for whom the Bill wm too moderate ; and the t*ller, thinner 
form of Bnrdett. They, crimson with shoutins, were hia 
partnere in this ; the bedfellowi among whom his opiuioiw 

had cast him. . , .. x i 

Thinkmg soch thon(^t8, he wai amoag the last to leave 
the House ; wlach he did by way of Westminster Hall. The 
8cene as he dwoended to the Hall wai so striking that he 
pansed on the steps to view it. The nearer halt of the gren* 
paved space was compamtively bare, but the farther half was 
oocupiedby a dense throng of people, held back by a line of 
the New Police, who were doing all they could to keep a 
passage for the departing members. As groups of_ the latter, 
after chatting at the upper end, passed, Muscious oi the great- 
ness of the occasion, down the lane thus formed, bnrsts of 
cheering greeted the better-known Reformers. Some of the 
more forward of those who waited shook hands with them, or 
patted them on the back ; while others cried "God bless you, 
Kt 1 Long life to you, sir ! " At intervals an angry moan or 
a volley of hisses marked the passage of a known Tory, or a 
voice called to these to bid the Lords beware. A few lamps, 
which bad burned through the night, contended pallidly with 
the growing daylight, and gave to the scene that touch of 
obseurity, that mingling of light and shadow, under the dusky, 
far i«cedi»g roof, \rtiich is so necessary to the picturesque. 

Vanghan did not sopect that as he paused, lookmg down 
upon the Hall, he was tooself watched, and by men sore 
enough at that moment to be glad to wreak their feelings in 
any direction. As he set his foot on the stone pavement, a 
group near t hand raised a cry of " Turncoat ! Turncoat 1 " 
uplifting their voices so that he conld not but hear it. An 
unrestrained hiss folkwed ; and then, "Who stole a seat?" 
cried one of the group. 

" And isn't going io keep it ? " cried another. 

Taughan turned short at the )att, words — he had not felt 
sure that the first were addressed to him. With a hot face, 
and every fibre in his body tingling with indignation, he 
stepped up to the group. 

" Did you speak to me ? " he said. 

A man put himself before the others. He was a spend- 
thrift Irish squire, one who had sat for years for a dose 
borough, and for whom the Bill meant duns, bailiffs, a 



■is^^^^^^^PJ- 



^w^i^swiS^ 



^i^!:m,. 



THE SCENE IN THE HALL ,57 

irt^hr^'H '°' *5 !?".°' "" "«"« '»'»K« 'Wch made 

a «,«T "Thl™ nn'f ^'!f '^''' Tf™""'°S 0" friend with 
VaLhan ^ ^'.'*^ iaea.nre of your acquaintance, sir I " 

"Perhaps yon have not," he replM, - but thrt ecntlcman 

r ^teio^^ "'""" ^"" ■""• ^ '»^'= '*•' J'-"- *° --fc for 
iec;i:K'''r;,^;hL''r^^Vo"n^'';>'^^^^ -^'^ - ■^ 

Who^ke? he asked, big voice ringing load. 
Ihe Irishman looked over his shoulder and lan-'hed 
" Bight yon are. Jerry ? " he said. « I'll not give yon 5pf" 
And then to Vanghan, " I did Mt," he said ruddy. "For the 

la^"^" P'«»™re, however," YMghao replied, "is not my 
law. Some one of yon, I know not whfch, ised woris a 
moment ago which seemed to imply " 

"What, sir?" 

" That I obtained my scat by unfair means I And the truth 
ten^"-'"' *^ ''"v.'- P,''««'°?n"-^ain he pointed to the 
-!^f»i;?„'' TJjy'h.cE left Wathen anything but comfortable 

J »m sure that he will tell you that the statement " 

" Statement ? " 

V „"8**'e'°en' or impntation, or whatever yon please to call 
It, Vanghan answered, sticking to his point in spite of inter- 
rnrtions, "is absolutely nnfounded-and false! False, sir? 
And therefore must be retracted." 
"Must, sir?" 

"Yes, must," Vanghan replied— ho was no coward. "Must, 
il?^ 1^ yourselves gentlemen. But first, Mr. Serjeant. " Le 
continued, fixing Wathen with his eye, "I will ask ybn to tell 

iTti^^^ "^ y°°" '?"' ^ ^^^ "ot turn my coat at Chippinge, 
and that there was nothing in my election which in any do™ 
toncbed my honour." 

The Serjeant looked flurried. He was of those who love 



,jg CHIPPINGE 

to vronnd but do not love to fight. And at thto moment to 

'° M m^Bt «y'^Mr'!^Vanghan." he said, "that the-lhe 

M wZteotr Serjeant Wathen. I appeal to yon, bu: I Wa. 

''""TtaSw nothing of that 1 " Wathen answefrf roljealy-. , 
.' NrthSg ? Yol know nothing of that ? " Vanghan cn«J. 
«No"^e Serjeant answered, still more snlTenly. I 
know nothinKof what passed between Ton and your «)n«m. 
ftaow only tl^t you were present, as I We «»i<l.»' "dinner 
nf hk Bunwrtos on the eye of the Blection,and that on a 
°^M::;,Tt^hrdinner. you d,#J-"!LSV^"~ 
i.ith the reanlt that yon were elected by the otner sioe i 
"%or aTom^ Wan rtood gloweriS^.Un.i{,Wt;TT 
dumb by his denial, end by the "n«P<«*?* P'»?"'"''S' °^ 

"'•^ ?feenCfmo°^fhe':S Z'ttaJ'tf he^^ouT 
Tc^Sd ^yt^Jef HeT«;are that U«, n^a. diriionest. 
Bnt he did not see how he could proyeit, an*-— 

-nSi hish Member laughrf. "Wei, sir." he wad de- 
risiy^, "is the explanation, now you've got it, to your 

"'"The" taunt stung Vanghan ; he took a step forward. The 
next moment woull havl seen him commit a foohsh «it»n. 



MWMialKifcgMilf^aW? 



THE SCENE IN THE HALL 159 

which oonld only have led him to Wimbledon Common or 

« w!? S*";..- "'u"; ,'.''? "'"^ "f "■"« » TO'«i "toyed him. 
What* th« eh?" It Mked, its tone more Ineubriona 
^aT^I- ^^^.^" ^'««'*« Wetherell, who had Inrt d^ 
3^„fl»^' '.'?'" 5;*"" the lobby, turned a dnll e/e from one 
dupatant to the other. "Can't you do enough jamage with 
your toi^nes?' he rumbled. "Brawl upstJn as much aa 
JZ,^J' That's the way to the Woolsack I But yon muitn't 
brawl here!" And the heavy-vi^ged man. whie humour 
i^Jt^^^A «ga«i^«>'«'ih8ted a ITouae which his coarse 
mvective had offended, onoe more turned from one to tho 

"What is it ? " he repeated. « What's the matter ? " 
Vanghan hesitated to appeal te him. Then he decided to 

do 80. 

*!. " w ^^'^^C ^^ ""'^ " I '^ »'»'^e by yonr decision !- 
though I do not know, indeed, that I ooght to take any man's 
ooe^n on apomt which touches my honour 1" 

" Oh 1 "Wetherell said, in an inimiuble voice. " Cdnrt of 
Honour, is it? And he cast a queer look round the circle. 
"Court of Honour, eh? Well. I dare say I'm eligible f 

-.■^^ L i""™"* ™°'=h ■*»"' honour as Brougham about 

y^J , Or the Serjeant tle« "-Watbe. nUewA angrily- 

abont law ! Or Captam HcShane hens alxnit hisfcloved 

S?™^/..*^ "® continued amid the unconcealed grins of 

™^f the J^7 whose Tieak pointa had ewaped, "you may 

"You are a friend. Sir Charier" Vanghan said, in a voice 
which quivered with anxiety— "Ton are a friend of Sir 
Booert Vermnyden's ? " 

"Well, I won't deny him until I know more I " Wetherell 
answered qnamtly. " What of it ? " 

"Yon.kno'' "hat occurred at Chippinge before tho 

" None better. I was there." 

I'l-f?? "?*' P^*^ between Sir Bobert Vermuyden and 
""^ I T Tf??^ r <»ntinned eagerly. " Before the dection ? " 
J 3 J *^^^ ^ ^°>' Wetherell answered. "In the main, 

" Then I appeal to yon. Yon are opposed to mo in politics, 
mr, but you wUl do me justice. These gentlemen have thought 
pi to brand me m a turncoat ; and worae, as oae who 



«6o 



CHIPPINGE 



who was elected"— ho could Karoely ipesk for pwion— "in 
™]J.Jtion tomy relative's candidate, nnder circnmitancc. 
duDononrable to me 1 " . 

"Indeed? Indeed? That i« lenona. 

" And I a»k yon, sir, ia there a word of truth in ina* 

W^theren had lowered his eyes to the pavement. lie 
appeared to consider the matter for a moment or two ; then 
he shook his head. 

" Not a word," he said ponderonsly. 

"Yon bear me out, sir?" , , . ■ -v.. 

" Qoite," the other answered, as he took out his snnH-box. 
"To tell the truth, gentlemen," b<^ rintinned in the same 
melancholy tone, "Mr.Vanghan wrw '"^1 ""•"B^ '1JS,W 
with his bJead and bntter for the ,=.i..e of the most worthlMS. 
damnable, and mistaken convict; J is any man ever new I 
Ss the truth. He showed himHclf, I'll -swear to it, a verv 
pcrfect fool i but an honourable and an honest fool— and that s 
a rare thing. I see none here." , . , > » -it v _ 

No one laughed at the gibe, and he turned to VanghM, 
who stood relieved, indeed, but stiff and uncomfortable, 
uncertain what to do neit. . „ . „ , 

" ru take your arm," he said. " I've saved yon,* he con- 
tinned, with cool contempt, « from the ragged regiment on my 
aide. Do yon take me safe," with a glance towards the lower 
end of the Hall, "through your ragged regiment outside, 

"^ Vaughan understood the generous motive which underlay 
the invitaUon. But for a moment he hong back. 

« I am your debtor, Sir Charles," he said, as long as 1 
live. But I would like to know before I go," and ho raised 
his head, with a look worthy of Sir Bobert, "whether these 
gentlemen are satisfied. If not — ;-" ,„,i-i'> 

« Oh, perfectly," the Serjeant cned hurriedly. " Perfectly 1 
And he muttered something about being glad— hear explana- 
tion—satisfactory. , ,, ,1 IV t. J 

But the Irish Member stepped up and held out his hand. 

" Faith," he said, " there\ no man whose word I d toke 
before Sir Charles's. There's no hiatus in his honour, what- 
ever may be said of his breeches. That's one for you, he 
added, addressing Wethercll. "I owed you o^jf- ^y boy. 
And then he continued, turnmg to Vaughan, " There s my 



THE SCENE LV THE HALL t«i 

hMsd, iirl I apologiie. Yoa'w a nun of honour, and it's 
mutakon we were." 

"I am obliged to yon for yonr candour," Vaughan replied. 

hand* with him frankly. The Serjeant did lo at bit. leM 
frankly. But Vanghan law that he was cowed. Wetherell 
W«« Sir Bobert Vermuyden's friend, the Serjeant wai Sir 
Itoberta nominee. So the young man pushed bu triumph no 
farther. With a feeling of gratitude, too deep for words, ho 
offered hu arm to Sir Charles, and went down the HaU in hif 
company. 

By this time the crowd at the lower end had carried their 
joyand their hone-play elsewhere ; and no attempt was made 
—Vaughan only wished an attempt had been made-to molest 
Wetherell. They walked side by side across the yard to Par- 
liament Street, as the flnt sunshine of the day fell on the river, 
iiocks of gulls were swinging to and fro in the clear air above 
S?if T' uJ' ?"? ?■""•' '^'868 were floating up with the tide. 
The hubbub had passed from the neighbourhood of the HalL 
*ar away a score of coaches were speeding through the suburbs, 
b^ing to market town and busy city— ay, and to village greens, 
where the news was awaited a* eagerly— the tidings that the Bill 
had passed the Lower House. 

Sir Charles walked a short distance in silence. Then, " I 
thought some notion of the kind was abroad," he said. " It's 
as weU this happened. What are yon going to do about jour 
seat if the Bill pass, young man ? " 

"I am told that it is pre-empted," Vaughan answered, in a 
tone between jest and earnest. 

" It is. That's true. But " 

"What ought I to do?" 

"Yon should see your own side about it," Wetherell 
anscared gruffly. "I can't say more than that. I can't 
udvise yon." 

" I am obliged to you for so much." 
"Yon should be V' Wetherell retorted in a peculiar tone. 
And with an oath and a vehement gesture he disengaged his 
arm. He halted, he wheeled about, he pointed with a shaking 
hand to the towers of the Abbey, which, two hundred paoes 
froni them, rose against the blue, beatified by the morning 
sundune. " If I said," he cried, " ' Batter down those wall^ 
undig the dead, away with every hoary thing of time, the 



,6i CHIPPINGE 

prMenl and the f atare m enough, and we, the g«>«»|foi^ 
kn» the mummiei which three thowand jem »»«'?«*- 
we K. wiier thm aU oar forbear^' what wnld yon «yj Yon 
would call me mad. Yet what are yon doing ? Ay. yon, yon 
among the reet 1 " he contlnned in a voice hoarie with emotion. 
"The bnilding that onr father, hnilt. prtiently thwngh many 
hundred ycaii. adding a wae here and thwe-tteTMuldinj 
that Hai£pden\ and ghrewebnry, and Walpole. Chatham «d 
hii wn, ^dOmning, and many another tended werently, 
repairing in parU ai time required, yon, yon, who think yon 
knwr mSre tlin all who have gone before yon-tnrry in ran 
to the ground. That yon may build your own building, bnUt 
in a day, to iuit the day, and to periih with the day 1 OH, 
madl lladl Mad I Ay. 

" HotUi htbtt nnnM ; rait alta % enlmine Troja 



B*t iMtria Piisaaqna datnia ; ai Pcrguu lingua 
Drfcndi poMUt, eUam I 



I bM dafwM tai<MQt I " 



Hii voice anavered on the lait accent, and hit chin w^o" 
his breast. He turned wearily and issumed his course. When 
Vaughan, who did not venture to address him again, parted 
from him in silence at the door of his house, the old mm s 
pendnloos lip quivered, and a single tear ran down his fiheek. 



CHAPTER XXVII 



WICKED BHIFTR 

It «m wiUi a lighter heart thai Vaaghan walked on to Bniy 
Street. There were itill, it leemed, faith and hononr in the 
world, and aome men who could be trorte'I. But if ha ex- 
pected mnch to oome of this, if he expected to be received with 
an ovation on bis next appearance at WcRtminster, he was 
doomed to disappointment. WethereU's defence convinced 
those who heard it ; and in time, no donbt, passing frum 
month to mouth, would improve the jovmg Member s rela- 
tions, not only on the floor of the Honse, but in the lobbiea 
and at Bellamy's. But the English are not dramatic. They 
have no love for scenes. And no one of those whose silence or 
whose cat-calls had wronged him thoogbt fit to take his hand 
in cold blood, and ask bu pardon ; nor did any Don Qaixoto 
cast down a glove in Westminster ITall, and offer to do battle 
with his tradncers. The manner of one roan became a shade 
more cordial ; another spoke where he would have nodded. 
And if Yaugban had risen at this time to speak on any question 
which he understood, he would have bmn heard npon his 
merits. 

Bnt the change, slow though genial, like the breaking-np 
of an English frost, came too late to do him mnch service. 
With the transfer of the Bill to the House of Lords, public 
interest deserted the Oommons. They sat, indeed, through 
the month of September, to the horror of many a country 

Sentleman, who saw in this the herald of evil days ; and they 
ebated after a fashion. Bat the attendance was eparse, and 
the thoughts and hopes of all men were in another place. 
Vaaghan saw that, for all the reputation he could now make, 
the Dissolution might be oome already. And with this, and 
the emptiness of his heart, from which be conld no more pat 
»«3 



MKtOCOTY atSOUITION TKT CH*>T 

(ANSI Odd ISO TEST CHART No. 7) 




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364 



CHIPPINGE 



the craving for his mistress than he could dismiss her image 
from the retina of his mind, he was very miserable. The void 
left by love was rendered worse by the void left unsatisfied by 
ambition. Mary's haunting face was with him at his rising, 
and went with him to his pillow ; her little hand was often on 
his sleeve, her eyes often pleaded to his. In his lonely rooms 
he would pace the floor feverishly, savagely, pestering himself 
with what might have been ; kicking the furniture from his 
path, and— and hating her. For the idea of marriage, once 
closely presented to man or woman, leaves neither unchanged, 
leaves neither as it found them, however quickly it be put 



Still it was not possible for one who sprang from the 
governing classes, and was gifted with political instincts, to 
witness the excitement which moved the country durmg those 
weeks of September and the early days of October without 
feeling his own blood stirred ; without sharing to some extent 
the exhilaration with which the adventurous view the approach 
of adventures. What would the Peers do ? All England was 
asking that question. At Cteckford's, in the Uttle supper- 
room, or at the French hazard table, men turned to put it, 
and to hear the answer. At White's and Boodle's, in the hall 
of the Atheufeum, as they walked before Apsley House, or 
under the gas-lamps of Pall Mall, men asked that question 
again and again. It shared with Pasta and the slow-coming 
cholera— which none the less was coming- the chit-chat of 
drawing-rooms ; and with the next prize-fight or with ridicule 
of the Kew Police, the wrangling debates of every tavern and 
post-house. Would the Peers throw out the Bill ? Would they 
—would those doting old Bishops in particular— dare to thwart 
the People's Will ? Would they dare to withhold the franchise 
from Birmingham and Manchester, Leeds and ShefiBeld ? On 
this husbands took one side, wives the other, families quarrelled. 
What Oroker thought, what Lord Grey threatened, what the 
Duke had let drop, what Brougham had boasted, how Lady 
Lyndburst had sneered, or her husband retorted, what the 
Queen wished — scraps such as these were tossed from mouth to 
mouth, greedily received, carried far into the country, and, 
changed beyond recognition, were repeated in awe-struck ears, 
in county liallrooms and at sessions. 

One member of the Privy Council who had left his party 
on the Bill, and whose vote, it was thought, kid turned a 



WICKED SHIFTS 



afiS 



division, shot himself. And many another, it wm whisuered 
was never the same after the strain of those days 

fate of the Bill. If they threw it ont, what would the MinUtry 
do ? And, more momentous still, and looniinK laro'er in the 
minds of men, what wonld the country do ? What would 
wodd'the™ " ? ®*''^' Manchester and Leeds do ? What 

»flW^.n™«^''*^' *'™°,§ »>te King's support, would persevere, 
i^^nnXr m 'T""''! bmg in the Bill again, and crSte peer^ 
in number sufficient to carry it. And Macaulav's squib was 

SelTe stmts': "'°'' ""' """"^ '" meetingruntil it 

" What, thongh now oppond I be, 
Twenty peers aball oarrv me I ^ 

If twenty won't, thirty will. 
For I am Lis Majesty's bouncing Bill." 

Ay his Majesty's Bill, God bless him ! His Majesty's own 
H?,rLl. S^^^^f, Lord Grey , Hurrah for Brougham ! 
Huirah for Lord John, and down with the Bishops I So the 
word flew from mouth to month in the streets, so mand-bovs 
yeUed It under the windows of London House in St. James's 
^uare-^, and wherever aproned legs might be supposed to 

But others maintained that Lord Grey would resign, and 
et tte consequences faU on the heads of those who Sp^ 
i„? K Jt* ?•■]'• 7^^^ .consequences, it was whisper^^Und 
not by tlie timid and the nch only, spelled Revolution I Eevo- 
lution, red and anarchical, was at hand, said manv Was 
not Scotland ready to rise ? Was not the PoUtical Union of 
Bimmgham threatening to pay no taxes ? Were not the 
political Unions everywhere growling and lashing their sides ? 
Ihe winter was coming, and there would be fires by nijtht 
and dnllmgs by day, as there had been during the /revioua 
^T- Through the long dark nights there would be fear 
and trembhng, and barring of doors, and waiting for the judg- 
ment to come. And then, some morning, the crackhng sound 
of mugketrr would awaken PaU Mall and Mayfair, the mob 
wonld march upon the Tower and Newgate, the streets would 
nin blood, and the guillotine wonld rise in Leicester Square or 
rinsbury Fields. 



366 



CHIPPINGE 



So widely were these fears spread, fostered as they were by 
WhMTtiM^vthe Tories for the purpose of proving whither 
^^o^^r^S the conntry, ly IhTwhlgsto show to 
^TThe lunacy of the borough-mongers wMdrivmg it- 
fhTf, w were oroof aeainst them. So few, that when the tfill 
^ reTec^ b^etords in the early morning of Saturday 
oftoto t^8tt, the Tory peers, from W Eldon downward^ 
thouBh they hid not shrSik from doing their duty, could 
S be ^e to believe that they were at liberty to go to 
thebnomes unscathed. , . ^ ii _'„™ „« n,o 

They did so, however. But the first muttenngs of the 
gtorm Son made themselves heard. Within twentv-four hours 
ttHS of many failed them for fear. The ^^fJ^^Jl 
once The ioumab appeared in momrning borders. In many 
^n^n^ the biuswre toM and the shops were shut. The mob 
rfTot&h^rrand burned the OrUe,andfi.red the hou« 
of an nn~pular sqnire. The mob of Derby besieged the gaol 
^dreSTe prisoners. At Darlington, Lord TankemUe 
S^rrowWWped^thhisliff! ; Lord I^ndonderry was attacked 

^TiS^ie^ SSs paSdJTeW^t End^of London, 
te^ke thHfnX^ rf minTpeers, assaulted others, and were 
oriT drh?en from Apsley Ho^e by the timely amval of the 
L»e Ss. The Tuntry. a°«^ed .and shaken *«"" end to 
end seemSl to be already in the grip of .rebeUion i with Ae 
J^lttSTwithin the week the very Tories hastened to ^ 
L^d Gr^ to retain office. Even the King, it was supposef, 
wS sUkiL, aThis famf.ns distich, his one contnbution to 
the poetry of his country, 

•looiuHetDlMolution 
Tsntanionnt to Berolution, 

^t ^Jv the sirerew darker. But though the rejection of 



WICKED SHIFTS 



167 



a revolution. It wag dear that his onlj chance lay in follow- 
ing WetheroU's advice, and laying his case before one of hia 
chiefs. 

Some days after the division he happened on an oppor- 
tunity. He was walking down Parliament Street when he 
came on a scene mach of a piece with the nnrest of the time. 
A crowd was ponring out of Downing Street, and in the van 
of the rabble he espied the tall ungainly figure of no less a 
man than Lord Brougham. Abreast of the Chancellor, but 
keeping himself to the wall as if ha desired to dissociate him- 
self from the demonstration, walked another tall figure, also 
in black, with shepherd's plaid trousers. A second glance in- 
formed Vaughan that this was no other than the Mr. Comelins 
.vho had been present at his interview with Brougham ; and, 
accepting the omen, he made up to the Chancellor just as 
the latter halted to rid himself of the ragged tail, which had 
perhaps been more pleasing to his vanity in the smaller streets. 

"My friends," Brougham cried, checking with his band 
the ragamniuns' shrill attempt at a cheer, "I am obliged to 
you for your approval, but I beg leave to bid you good-day. 
Assemblages such as these are in these times of doubt " 

"Disgusting 1 " Cornelius muttered audibly, wrinkling his 
nose as he eyed them over his high cravat 

"Are apt to cause disorder," the Chancellor continued, 
smiling. " Best assured that your friends, of whom, if I am 
the highest in office, I am not the least in goodwill, will not 
desert you." 

" Hurrah I God bless yon, my lor Hurrah 1 " cried 
the tatterdemalions in various tones nn,*tf or less drr-nken. 
And some held out their caps. " Hurrah 1 If your lordship 
would have the kindness " 

" Disgusting 1 " repeated Cornelius, wheeling auout. 

Vaughan seized the opportunity to intervene. " May I," 
he said, raising big hat and addressing the Chancellor as he 
turned, " consult yon, my lord, for two minutes as you walk ? " 

Brougham started on finding a gentleman of bis appearance 
at his elbow, and looked as if be were somewhat ashamed of 
the guise in which he had been detected. 

•'Ahl" he said. "Mr.— Mr. Vaughan? To be sure I 
Oh yes— yes, you can speak to me. Certainly. What can 
I do for yop? It is,'*^he added, with affected hnmUity, 
" my business to serve." 



368 



CHIPPINGE 



'Vaughan lookeJ doubtfally at Mr. GomelinB, who laised 
his hat. 

" I have no secrets from Mr. Cornelius," said the Chancellor 
pleasantly. And then, with a backward nod and a tinge of coloar 
in his cheek, "Gratifying, but troublesome," ho continued. 
" Eh ? Very troublesome these demonstrations ! Ah, I often 
long for the old days when I could walk out of Westminster 
Hall, with my bag and my umbrella, and no one the wiser." 

"Those days are far back, my lord," Vaughan said 
politely. 

" Ah, well I Ah, well I Perhaps so." They were walking 
on by this time. " I can't say that since the Queen's trial I've 
known mnch privacy. However, it is something that those 
whom one serves are grateful. They " 

"Cry 'Hosanna' to-day," Cornelius muttered gruiBy, 
with his eyes fixed steadily before him, '' and ' Crucify him ' 
to-morrow." 

" Cynic ! " said the Chancellor, with unabated good- 
humour. "But even yon 9annot deny that they are better 
employed in cheering their friends than in breaches of the 
peace? Not that," cocking his eye at ' glian, with a 
whimsical expression of confidence, " a little w^order here and 
there ?— eh, Mr. Taughan, though to be deplored, and by 
no one more than by one in my position, has not its uses. 
Were there no apprehension of mob-rule, how many borough- 
mongers, think yon, would vote with us ? How many 
waverers, like my lords Harrowby and Whamcliffe, would 
waver ? And how, if we have no little ebullitions here and 
there, are we to know that the people are in earnest ? That 
they are not grown lakewarm P That Wetherell is not right 
in bis statement — of which he'll hear more than he will Uke 
at Bristol, or I am mistaken — that there is a Tory reaction, an 
ebb in the tide that so 'far has carried us bravely? But, of 
course," he added, with a faint smile, " God forbid that we 
should enconrage violence." 

" Amen I " said Mr. Cornelius ; and sniffed in a very 
peculiar manner. 

" Nevertheless to discern that camomile," the Chancellor 
continued gaily, " thongh bitter to-dav, makes as better to- 
morrow, is a different thing from " 

" Administering a dose," Yaoghan langhed, falling into the 
great man's humour. 



WICKED SHIFTS 



a6g 



bavono&'fh^, °''°'''^''°?'^''S "' ^^ companion. "I 
Snd voS of t^"""™ •"' "^'"^ y?" """o-bntl need not 

piwency— lie was walking as we 1 as talkine verv fast—" I 

Mr vrlV .w°"r*^ •*■»« °f ''• It w™ not for nothin/ 
Mr Vanghan that I got down onr Boroush List and S 

H V „ ^' ?°' '^"«'« yo" are, in the House ! " 
»i,;„i, .t :,""?•"»" replied, astonished at the coolness with 
^Sit,i'%°''" "^veiled, and even took credit for "ho j^u 
intrigne of six months back. " But " '^ ' 

Man'l? «''" ^■'°"Sham said, taking him up with a laughin.' 
glance^ "you are not yet on the T^asury Bench, eh ? " ° 
„fo. not yet." Vanghan answered. 

Van^Wn Zfi' '""^ »°d PaHence and Bellamy's chops, Mr. 
vanghan, will cany you far, I am sure." 

trouble ^ouTlo'.S^hTiJ^'*-"'^ '"'''"' "' """""^ """"""' ** 
nn^J*'* Chancellor's "lumpish but remarkably mobUe features 
L h^WH "'^•*.-^''''«5^ i" " ""■"P'-^'ent, vain humoS^ 

/,»L^^/\w'*'* ''".y'y- "y^' ^r. Vanghan." But the 

tt thatht.nnT"r"y ^""•"O '°'«. with which he 

coasted that he could whisper so as to be heard to the verv 
ft!^ra} ? ••' ■"' -' ^°'"°"""'' ""^ ■Jt^^d-^ Yes, whit '^ 
h. J J "^ '™* ^ require," Vanghan answered. " In a word, I 
t)fi!l?WT'*"°l/*™'^' y*"™*" service, my lord. And I 
think that I ought not to be oast aside by thi party in whose 

iJ^Ky."'"^ ""™"^' """^ '''"' "^^^ oh]^Jl^Z 

'•Cast aside? Tut.tntI What do yon mean ? " 
onn*;n„!? r *''*'• *'""'Sh the borough for which I sit will 
contmne to return one member, 1 shaU not have the support 
of the party in retaining my seat." ^ 

" u';}^^^ T ^'^^ ' " Brougham answered in a serions tone. 
.. n "" '"^ *° ''^^ that." 



37° 



CHIPPINGE 



" Very boitt. Mr. Vanghan." , . ^, 

Borrow I seek," Vanghan re oined, too Boro to hidehiB iMl'nP'- 
^n L^ owned lery oaididly that I derived from vou ho 
impulse which ha« carried mo so far Is it """'"pnjWe if I 
^ItZ to turn to yon, when advised to Bce one of the chiefs 

°^"^7^o7'Brongham asked, with a quick look, "gave yon 

that advice, Mr. Vanghan ? " 

"Sir Charles Wetherell." . . , ,. „, 

" Urn I " the exclamation came through pinched lipa s and 

Broneham stood. They had crossed Piccadilly and Berkeley 

&. ^d hS reach^ the corner of Hill Steect, where, at 

^°''a reifmy lord," Vanghan continued, "is it nnreason- 
ablc if I apply to yon in these circumstances, rather—— 
"Rather than to one of the whips?" Brougham said 

^"Tes" 

« But I know nothing of the matter, Mr. Vanghan." 

But the young man was in no mood to put np with snbter- 
fuges. If the other did not know, he should know. The 
Chancellor had been all-powerful, it seemed, to bring him in. 
Was ho powerless to keep him in ? j„ „u;„i, 

" Th^e is a compact, I am told," he said, "nnder which 
the seat is to be snrrendered-for this tm^ at any rate-to my 
cousin's nominee. To a Tory." 

Brougham shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Mr. 

^"'D^r me, dear me 1" he Bald. " That's not a thing of 
which I can approve. Far from it, far from it. But you 
must see, Mr. taughan, that I cannot meddle m my ncsiUon, 
with amngemento of that kind. Impossible, my dear sir, 

"^^^n^lSTlta?^ . and with some spirit and more temper 

found his retort. ,. , , .■ „ 

" But the spark, my lord ? I'm sure you won t forget the 

'^FOTantaUnt a gleam of fnn shone in the Chancellor's 

eyes ; then he wag funereal again. ,t,i„„i>i„ 

"Before the BiU, and after the Bill, are two things, h' 

said dryly. " Before the Bill all is, all was, impure ; and ii* 



WICKED SHIFTS 



»7i 



an impure medium— yon nndorstand me, I am sure ? Yon are 
Bcientjflo. But after the Bill— to aak me, who, in my humble 
mea«nr6, Mr. Vaughan, may call myself ita prime cauao— to 
nsk me to mfrinw itg first principles by interposing between 
the electors and their rights, to ask me to use an influence 
which cannot be held legitimate— no, Mr. Vaughan, no I " He 
shook his head solemnly and finally. And then to Mr 
Comehns : " Yes, I am coming, Mr. Comelins," he said. " I 
know I am late." 

" I can wait," said Mr. Comelins. 

"Bnt I cannot. Good-day, Mr. Vaughan, good day," 
Brougham repeated, refusing to see the young man's ill-hnmour 
' I am sorry that I cannot help yon. Or, stay," he continued," 
halting in the act of turning away, "one minute I I gather 
thit yon are a friend of Sir Charles Wctherell's ? " 

"He hag been a friend to me," Vanghan replied 

„„ ^' 4'''J!'*!'' '"' " SO'°g to Bristol to hold bis sessions on the 
29th, I think. Go with him. He hates me like poison, bnt 
I would not have a hair of his head injured. We have been 
warned that there will be trouble, and we are taking steps j but 
an able-bodied yonng man by his side will be no hid thing. 
And, upon my honour," he continued, eyeing Vanghan with 
impudent frankness, impudert in view of all that had gone 
before, " upon my honcir, I am beginning to think that we 
spoiled a good soldier when we — eh I " 

" The spark," Mr. Cornelius muttered grimly. 

" Good-day, my lord," Vanghan cried. 

His blood was boiling, and he turned and strode away 
scarcely smothering an execration. The two, who did not 
appear to be in a hurry after all, remained looking after him : 
and presently Mr. Cornelius smiled. 

"What amuses von?" Brougham asked, with a certain 
petulance; for at bottom, and in cases where no rivalry 
existed, he was good-natured, and in his heart he was sorry 
foi- (.he yonng man. But, then, if one began to think of the 
pawn 8 feelings, :be game he was playing would be spoiled I 
" Wh.->t IS it ? " ^ ■> o it 

" 1 waa thinking," Mr. Cornelius answered slowly, " of 
purity." He sniffed. " And the Whip 1 " 

Meanwhile Arthur Vaughan was striding down Bmton 
Street with every angry passion up in arms. He was too 



jy, CHIPPINGE 

clever to be tricked twice, an he mw P«ei««j7. J^at ^^«J 
happeacH. Brongham-wcll. well w" he called Wick^ 
ShWttl-reviewinK the borough h«t before the Genera^ 
Election, had let hi. eye. fall on Sir Robert'. waU at Chip- 
pinire, and, looking about with hi» customary andtcity for a 
ineani of Matching them, had alighted on him ""i »«ed him 
for a tool. Now he was of no farther nra ; and, a. the lorn of 
hU cxpectotion. rendered it needier to temporise with him, be 

""And thu'wa'sthe game of politic, which he had yearned to 
play 1 Thi. wa« the party who«) zeal for the punty of election. 
Jind the improvement of all clame. he had shared, and out of 
loyalty to which he had sacrificed a fortune I Ho .trodo alon.» 
the crowded pavement of Bond Street-it was the fashionable 
hour of the afternoon, and the political excitement kept 
London full-his head high, hi. face a>»^ed • .""^ ""^Ir^ 
Bcionsly, as he ahonldered the people to right and left, he swore 

""a^ he spoke, regardlew in his anger of the scene about him, 
his gaze pierced for an instant the medley of gay bonnets and 
smiUng faces, moving charioU, and waiting footmen, which 
ev-n in those day. filled Bond Streeb-and met another ^air 

" *ihe encounter lasted for a recond only. Then half a 
d-sen heads and a parasol intervened ; and tl>en-ra another 
wcond— he was abreast of the carnage m which Mm7 
Vermuyden sat, her face the prettiest and her bonnet the 
daintieSt-Ladv Worcester had seen to that-of all the face, 
and all the boinets in Bond Street that day. The landau in 
which she sat was stationary a. the edge of the pavement ; ana 
on the farther side of her reposed a lady of kind face and 

"""Vorm'instant their eyes met again; and Mary;, colour, 
which had fled, returned in a flood of crimson, covering brow 
and cheeks. She leaned from the carriage and held out Her 
white-gloved hand. .... » • i,«, 

" Mr. Vanghan I " .he sai \ and he might have read in her 
face, had he chosen, the sweetest and tenderest appeal. Mr. 

^"sShe moment was unlucky ; the devil had possemion of 
him. He raised his hat and passed on-pMsed on wilfiU^. 
He fanc^— afterwards, that is, he fanaed— that she had 



WICKED SHIFTS J73 

riien, after lie bad pniwed, to her foot, and railed him a third 
time m a voice at which the eonvenwiets of Bond Street could 
onlj wink. Unt he went on ; he heard, but he went on. He 
told himself that all wan of a piece. Men and women were »ll 
alike. He was a fool who trusted any, believed in any, ioved 
any. ' ' 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ONCE MOBE, TANTIVY 1 

Vai-ohxn Lad been wro ot heart before the meeliogin Parlia- 

WmMMM 

'StX ;Toi^ 17^ the dart -« deeply mrt.wo»^^^ 

A ilftrk October moming was brooding over ine 'J"*^" 

uhet he «^ Pi^illy to take his place onU.de the White 

*74 



ONCE MORE, TANTIVY I 



»7S 



Hono Collar. Now, m on that dUtant dov in April, when 
tho car of r«,y.flugcred lovo )>ad awaited fim ignSmnt the 

low-browed windows of tbo oftico. Bat how diffe-nt wm «» 
ehie I To^lay the hmps wore ligi >d and flickered on we 
C^Lrh^'l''''' «'"«'» weK wind; and desolate, tho day K 
^?^ir"''*"rr!!'*'"' ""^ '"'* '""'•.and on all k steady rata 

he r shouIderH, and the gaards. bustling from the office with 
thoir waybillH and the lato parcels, werS short of temper ad 
cart of tongue. The shivering passengers, cloaked to Z eyol 
m box<oat8 and wrap-rascaU. cfimbed silently and illenly to 

vL^' '"5 ' ^^l "' '•"■"KK'nJf "»"' Blionlden, to their irs. 
Vaughan, who hod secured a place beside tho driver, cost an 
eve on all, on tho long dark vista of the street, on the few 
shivering papers ; and be found the -change fitting. Let 
;t?i°'.'^V'.Hu''' ^"K*^" »»" "« "'«« -ly '»'»ind a mask of 
f^^^l Let the world wear ite true face I He cared not how 
discordantly the guard's horn sounded, nor how tho coach- 
man swore at bis cattle, nor bow the mud splashed dp. as two 
minntes aft« time thoy jolted and rattled and bum^ down 
tho slope and through the dingy narrows of Knightsb dee. 
1- J K ^ to pleaw him, tho rain fell more heavi at tho 
light broadened and the coach passed through K ..mgton 
turnpike, fhe paswngers. oronchikg inside their wraps, loSked 
misCTably from under dripping umbrellas on a wet ffammer- 
smith, ani a wetter Brentfor-'. Now the coach ploughed 
through deep mud, now it rolled silently over a bed of chestnut 
or sycamore leavea which the first frost of autumn had brought 
?°,!™; ?.™^' »*»«''> i' Bplashed through a rivulet. It was 
full daylight now ; it had been daylight an hour. And. at 
last, joyous sight, pleasant even to the misanthrope on the 
boi-seat, not far in front, through a curtain of mist and rain, 
loomed Maidenhead— and breakfast 1 

The np night-coach, retarded twenty minutes by the 
weather, rattled up to the door at the same moment. Vaughan 
foresaw that there would be a contest for seata at the table 
and, wthout waiting for tho ladder, ho swung himself to the 
ground, and entered the house. Hastily doffing his streaming 
overcoats, he made for the coffee-room, where roaring firw 
and a plentiful table awaited the travellers. In two minutes 
he was served, and isolated by his gloomy thoughta and almoit 



jl 



j^j CHIPPINGE 

if he knew him. T.nVihv sir " the otlier answered, 

'^•'^CBlTif 4 wiuMm. Do yon think tot there 

"'5Sg«?"'va^lLn answered with' a smile. "No 

'^"?" heX^ment did not wish him to go, sir." 
<- Oh I don't heUeve that^" Vaughan said. _ 
"Well to Corporation didn't, for certain, ^f. ^^ jnan 
■ . I •' „ i««%,tXv. " Thev wanted him to postpone the 

SirrrJgKM And they're a desi^rate^ 
^''^^^I'^^X^sJ^^- "But.you may be sure 

to his '\°»g^'?-thS^'oWrl who was passing his table on 
Sow hrtrThad jumped at the sight. Why, there waj 

^rHrh^>^-?^'-e^-°^^^^ 

Ccha^ld^ ain The umnanly tean. roae very near 
to his eyes 88 he thought of it. 



ONCE MORE, TANTIVY 1 »„ 

. ™?„* "''^°r?fl« brooding over this, in that mood in which 
^,^r^^^ '""' °^ t™"' "^ °f "•"»* bef»'l« hi-", that the 
f^^ ^^.^?,.'T^'' S'"- ^""J «'«» "i«n. M te donned his 
coats with the "boots » fussing about him, and the coachman 
S^,^f ^'-iiJ the delay, his memory wis bnsy with that 
mornmg. There, m the porch, he hii stood and heard the 
l?Z^ ';«terman praise her looks I And there Cooke had 
stood and denounced the Reform placard ! And there . 

« Th. ?? ^°^^^ the coachman, losing patience at last. 
The gentleman's not coming I " 

" I'm coming," he answered curtly. 
»nlf n„*i"T'"^ 'u^ pavement in two strides, he swung him- 
Th.nLwTr'"'l!.'r '•'« Btablemen released the horses, 
.nl^r*" "^^'f »» i»« foot left the box of the wheel. And 
something else started— furiously. 

His heart. For in the place behind the coachman in the 
very seat which Mary Smith^ad occupied on t"r-ofl April 
f»S'nr' Mary V yjenl lor an infinMy sm^S 
frartion of a second, as he tnmed himself to drop into his 
b.A his eyes swept her face. The rain had ceased to fall the 
umbrellas wei« furled; for that infinitely shorFspu^ his ev^ 
rest^ on her features. Then his back wis tumedTher ^ 
«h« h J w "T" ^^^ «l8«where, her face had been cold 

rash oJl.^V.''"}.^'"- u^ ■""*• '" "'^ '""f^^d Pon-ding 
rush of his thoughts, as ho sat tingling in every inS of his 

tfe^n'olf 'fT'f''-' "Othingelsf exceltKueno 
^r2r^^""''l' **?"" "^'^^ ^"7 Smit£ had wom-oh, 
™t n,„V""r'^''^,'T''"' "^ ^^^S rich furs, with 
no^Cge" * ™'^' •"" "^ '*'"'• "^^""^ ^'^ Smith 

Probably she had been there from the start, seated behind 
him nnder cover of the rain and the nmbrelLS. If so-aSd 
to hkntSli'^l'^/' »^'. ^''^ ^'^ -^"P'^d when he got 

mount ^T^^" ^"^ ^1^"'^ ■"■« ^o^^-'g. tod «een ^ 
mount, liad been aware of him from the first. She could see 

inThp^Hff'^^^ every movement, read his self-conscionsnesa 
dyethS'irand?eifc "*"• ^'^'"' "^^ "^^ "' *»'<"" '""'^ 
.nff^ ^l T^^ f'^**^ "•^'■^' •>« could not escape. And he 
Ll^t^r ^•'*^H^°'?'"«"''''^'<«'1'» '^''^esaid tliTt his upper- 
1^^?^ V "^ 'nsnch circumstances would be resentment, fint. 
w fact, he could think of nothing except that meeting in Bond 



I 



278 



CHIPPINGE 



Street, and the rudeness with -which he had treated her. If he 
had not ref nsed to speak to her, if he had not passed her bj, 
rejecting her hand with disdain, he might have been his own 
master now ; he wonld have been free to speak, or free to he 
silent, as he pleased. And she who had treated him so ill 
would have been the one to snffer. Bnt, as it was, be was hot 
all over. The intolerable gene at the sitnation rested on him 
and weighed him down. 

Until the coachman, calling his attention to a passing 
waggon, broke the spell and freed his thonghts. After that he 
began in feel a little of the wonder which the coincidence 
demanded. How came she in the same seat, on the same 
coach, that coach on which they had travelled together ? He 
remembered that a man-servant shared the hind seat with the 
clerk who had spoken to him ; and probably the middle-aged 
woman who sat with her was her maid. Bnt ho knew Sir 
Robert well enongh to be snre that he wonld not countenance 
her journeying, even with this attendance, on a public vehicle ; 
therefore, she must be doing it without her father's knowledge, 
in pursuance of some whim of her own. Could it be that she, 
too, wished to revive the bitter-sweet of recollection, the after- 
math of that April day 1 And, to do so, had gone ont of her 
way to travel on this cold wet morning on the same coach, 
which six months before had brought them together ? 

If so, she must love him in spite of all. And in that case, 
what must her feelings have been when she saw him take his 
place ? What, when she knew that she would not taste the 
bitter-sweet alone, but in his company ? What, when she 
foresaw that through the day she would not pass a single thmg 
of all those well-remembered things, that milestone which he 
had pointed ont to her, that baiting-house of which she had 
asked the name, that stone bridge with the hundred bcdnstrades 
which they had crossed in the gloaming — that her e^ wonld 
not alight on one of these without another heart answering 
to every throb of hers, and another breast aching as hers 
ached. 

At that thought a snbtle attraction, almost irresistible, 
drew him to her, and he could have cried to btf, under the 
pain of separation. For it was all true. Before his eyes those 
things were passing; There was the milestone which he had 
pointed out to her. And there the ruined ^n. And here were 
the streets of B«tding opening before th||n, and the Market 



ONCE MORE, TANTIVY 1 379 

Place, and the Bear Inn, where he had saved her from iniurv 
perhaps from death. * "' 

' ••••., 

Thev were out of the town, they were clear of the honees, 
Md he had not looked, he had not been able to look at her. 
Her WMknew, her mconstancy deserved their punishment': bat 
for all her fortune, to recover all that he had lost and she had 
gained, he would not have looked at her there. Yet, while the 
coach changed horses in the Square before the Bear, he had had 
a glimpse of her— reflected in the window of a shop j and he 
l«id marked with greedy eyes each line of her fignre and seen 
that she had wound a veil round her face and hat, so that 
whatever her emotions, she might defy curious eyes. And yet' 
as fm as he was concerned, she had done it in vain. The veil 
conld not hide her agitation, could not mask the strained 
rigidity of her pose, or the convulsive force with which one 
hand gripped the other in her lap. 

Well, that was over, thank God I For he had as soon seen 
a woman beaten. The town was behind them ; Newbury was 
not far in front. And now with shame he began to enjoy her 
presence, her nearness to him, the thought that her eyes were 
on him and her thoughts fuU of him, and that it he stretched 
out his hand he could touch her ; that there was that between 
them, that there must always be that between them, which time 
could not destroy. The coach was loaded, but for him it carried 
her only : and for Maiy he was sure that he fiUed the landscape 
were it as wide as that which, west of Newbnry, reveals to the 
admiring traveller the wide vale of the Kennet. He thrilled at 
the thought ; and the coachman asked him if he were cold. But 
he was far from cold, for he knew that she too trembled, she, 
too,thnlled. And a foolish exultation possessed him. He had 
hungry thoughts of her nearness, and her beauty ; and insane 
plans of snatching her to his breast when she left the coach, 
and covering her with kisses though a hundred looked on. He 
might suffer for it, he would deserve to suffer for it, it would 
be an intolerable outrage. But he would have kissed her, he 
would have held her to his heart. Nothing could undo 
that. 

Yet it was only in fancy that he was bold, for he did not 
dare to look at her even now. And when they came to Marl- 
borough, and drew np at the door of the Castle Inn, where 
weet-bound travellers dined, he descended hurriedly and went 



iSo 



CHIPPINGE 



into the coffee-ruom to secure a place in a corner — whence he 
might see her enter without meeting her eyes. 

Bnt she did not enter the lionsc, Bo«n or late. And a vaiu 
man might have thought that she was not only hent on doing 
everything which she had done on the former journey, bnt that 
it was not without intention that she remained alone on the 
coach exposed to his daring — if he chose to dare. Some, 
indeed, of bis fellow-poesengera wandered out before the time, 
and on the pretence of examining the fafcide of tlie handsome 
old house, shot sidelong glances at the young lady who, wrapped 
in her fnrs and veiled to the throat, sat motionless in the keen 
October air. But Yaughan was not of these ; nor was he vain. 
When he found that she did not come in, he decided that she 
wonld not meet him — that she remained on the coach rather 
than sit in his company ; and, forgetting the overture in Bond 
Street, he remembered only her fickloneK: and weakness. He 
fell to the depths. She had never loved him, never, never I 

On that he almost made up his mind to stay there, and to 
go on by the next coach. Ui^ presence must be hateful to her, 
a misery, a torment. It was bad enough to force her to remain 
exposed to the weather while others dined ; it would be 
monstrons to go on and continue to make her wretched. 

Bnt, before the time for leaving came, he changed his mind, 
and he went ont, feeling cowed and looking hard. He could 
not mount without seeing her out of the comer of his eye ; but 
the veil masked all, and left him no wiser. The sun had buret 
throngh the clouds, and the sky above the curving line of the 
downs was blue. But the October air was still chilly, and he 
heard the maid fussing about her, and wrapping her up more 
warmly. Well, it mattered little. At Chippenham, the carriage 
with its pomp of postillions and outriders— Sir Robert was 
particular abont such things — would meet her ; and he wonld 
see her no more. 

His pride weakened at that thought. She could never be 
anything to him now ( he had no longer the least notion of 
kissing Eer. Bat at Chippenham, before she passed out of his 
life, he would speak to her. Yes, be would speak. He did not 
know what he would say, but he wonld not part from her in 
anger. He wonld tell her that, and bid her good-bye. Later, 
he wonld be glad to remember that they had pitted in that 
way, and that he had forgiven I 

While he thought of it they fell swiftly from the lip of the 



ONCE MORE, TANTIVY I 281 

downs, and rattling over tho narrow bridge and throueh the 
Btonebmlt streeta of Calne, were out again on the BatE road. 
After that, though thej took Black Dog hill at aslowpace, they 
seemed to be at Chippenham in a twinkling. Before^ Jjonld 
calm his thoughts the coach was rattling between houses, and 
the wide straggling street was opening before them, and the 
group assembled in front of the Angel to see the coach arrive 
was scattering to right and left. 

A glauce told him that there was no carriage-and-four in 
waiting. And because his heart was jumping so foolishly he 
Wiis glad to put off the moment of speaking to her. She would 
go into the honso and wait for a carriage, and when the coach, 
with its bustle and Its many eyes, had gone its way, he would 
be able to speak to her. 

Accordingly the moment tLe coach stopped he descended 
and hastened luto the house. He sent out the " booU " for his 
valise and betook himself to the bar-parlour, where ho called 
for something and jested with the smiling landlady, who came 
herself to attend upon him. He kept his back to the door 
which Marv must pass to ascend the stairs, for well he knew the 
parlour of honour to which she would be ushered. But thoueh 
he listened keenly for the msOe of ber skirts, a couple of 
minutes passed and he heard nothing. r = "' 

"Youare not going on, sir?' °the landlady asked. She 
knew too much of the family politics to ask point-blank if ho 
were going to Chippinge. 

am n^ "" '"' ^^^'"^ ' " '"'' ' ""^'^ attention wandered-" I 

• J'.f ^°P* ?^* ™*y ^^^^ *^^ •'""O""' °f keeping you to-ni»ht. 
sir ? she said. raj o""? 

" Yes, I "—was that the coach starting f — " I think I shall 
stay he night/' And then, "Sir Roblrt's Jlrrkge L r^ 
1) re^? he asked, setting down his gkiss. 

"No, sir. But two gentlemen have just driven in from Sir 

Rr win '"•* "^r .}^f^ "" P°'"°8 to Bath. One's Colonel 
Brereton, sir. The other's a young gentleman, short and stout, 
yuite the gentleman, but that positive, the postboy told me, 
and talkative jrou'd think he was the EmSeror o( China! 
Ihat s their chaise coming out of the yard now, sir." 

A thought, keen as a knife-stab, darted through Vaughan'g 
mind. In three strides he was out of the bar-parlour, in three 
more he was at the door of the Angel. 



aSi 



CHIPPINGE 



The coach was in the act of atarting, the ottlen were 
falling back, the Koard was swinging himself np ; and Mar; 
Vermn;den was where he had left her, in the place behind the 
coachman. And in the box-seat, the verr seat which he had 
vacated, was Bob Flizton, settling himself in his wraps and 
turning to talk to her. 

Yaughan let fall a word which wo will not chronicle. It 
was true, then, that they were engaged. And Flizton had 
come to meet her, and all was over. Fan-fa-ra I Fan-fa-ra I 
The coach was growing small in the distance. It veered a 
little, a block of hooses hid it, Yanghan saw it again. Then in 
the dosk of the October evening the descent to the bridge 
swallowed it, and he tamed away miserable. 

He walked a little distance from the door that his face 
might not be seen. He did not tell himself that, because the 
view ^w misty before his eyes, he was taking the blow con- 
temptibly ; he told himself only that he was verr wretched, 
and that she was gone. It seemed as if so mnch had gone 
with her ; so mnch of the hope, and jronth, and fortnne, and 
the homage of men, which had been his when he and she first 
saw the streets of Chippenham together, and he alighted to 
talk to Isaac White, and monnted again to ride on by 
her side. 

He was standing with his back to the inn, thinking of this 
— and not bitterly, bnt in a broken fashion — when he heard 
his name called, and he tnrned and saw Colonel Brereton 
striding after him. 

" I tbonght it was yon," Brereton said. Bnt though he had 
not met Yaughan for some month? mi the two bad liked one 
another, he spoke with little cordiality, and there was a weary 
look in his face. 

" Ton came with Flixton ? " f anghan said, speaking dully 
on his side. 

"Yes, and meant to go on with him. But there's no 
counting on men in love," Brereton continued, with more 
irritation than the occasion seemed to warrant. " He saw his 
charmer on the coach, and a vacant seat — and I may find my 
way to Bath as I can." 

"They are to be married, I hear ? " Yanghan said with his 
face averted. 

" I don't know," Brereton answered, frowning. " What I 
do know is that I'm not best pleased that he has left me. I 






ONCE MORE, TANTIVY I 



«83 



heard Sir Charles Wethcrell wai sleep' ng at yonr cooBin'i laat 
evening, and I posted there to see him about the arrangement! 
for hi« entry. But I missed him— he's at Bath for tliig evening. 
I took Flixton with me because I didn't Icnow Sir Robert and 
he did, end because, too, he's supposed to be playing aide-de- 
camp to me. But a fine aide-de-camp he's like to prove if this 
is the way he treats me. Yon know Wetherelf opens the 
Assizes to-morrow ? " 

" At Bri'*ol ? Yes I saw his clerk on the way down." 

" There'll bo trouble, Vauehan I " 

"ReaUy?" 

" Ay, and bad trouble. I wish it was over." He looked 
Tagaely into the distance. 

" I heard something of it in London," Vanghan answered. 

" Not much, I'll wager," Brereton rejoined, with a bmsqne- 
ness which betrayed suppressed irritation. " They don't know 
much, or they wouldn't be sending eighty sabres to keep order 
in a city of a hundred thousand people I Enough to anger, 
and not enough to intimidate 1 Why, man, it's madness. 
But I've made up my mind 1 I've made up my mind I " he 
repeated, speaking in a tone which r- -ealed the tenseness of 
his nerves. " Not a man will I show if 1 can help it 1 And 
not a shot will I fire, whatever comes of it I I'll be no butcher 
of innocent folk." 

"I hope nothing will come of it," Vaughan answered, 
mterested in spite of himself. " You're in command, sir ? " 

" Yes, and I wish to heaven I were not 1 But there, there I " 
he continued, pulling himself up as if he kept a wateh on him- 
self and feared that he said too much. "Enough of my 
businesss. What are you doing here ? " 

" Well, I ras going to Chippinge." 

" Come to Bath with me I You know Wetherell, and you 
mav be of use to me. There's half the chaise at your serdcc, 
and I will tell yon all about it aa we go." 

Vaughan cared little at that moment where he went ; and 
after the briefest hesitation he consented. A few minutes later 
they started together. It happened that, as they drove in the 
last of the twilight over the long stone bridge, an open car 
drawn by four horses and containing a dozen rough-looking 
men overtook them and raced them for a hundred yards. 

" There's another ! " Brereton said, rising with an oath and 
looking after it. " I was told that two bad gone through I " 



384 



CHIPPINGE 



" Who are they ? " Yanghan aiked, leaning oat on his aide 
to see. 

" Midland Union men, come to itir up the Bristol lambs," 
Brereton answered. " They may spare themselves the tronble," 
he continued bitterly. " The fire will need no poking, I'll be 
sworn ! " 

And brought back to the subject, he never ceased from that 
moment to talk of it. It was plain to any one who knew him 
that a nervous excitability had taken the place of his wonted 
melancholy. Long before they reached Uath, Vanghan was 
sure that, whatever his own troubles, there was one man in the 
world more unhappy than himself, more troubled, less at ease ; 
and that that man sat beside him in the chaise. 

He believed that Brereton exaggerated the peril. Bnt if 
his fears were well-based, then he agreed that the soldiers sent 
were too few. 

" Still a bold front will do much ! " he argued. 

" A bold front ! " Brereton replied feverishly. " No, but 
management may I Mani^ement may. They give me eighty 
swords to control eighty thousand people I Why it's my 
beUef " — and he dropped his voice and laid his hand on his 
companion's arm, " that the Government want a riot I ^y, by 
G — d, it is I To give the lie to Wetherell and prove that the 
coontry, and Bristol in particular, is firm for the Bill 1 " 

" Oh, but that's absurd I " Yanghan answered ; though he 
recalled what Brougham had said. 

" Absurd jr not, nine-tenths of Bristol beUeve it," Brereton 
retfl^'icd. "^\ud I believe it I But I'll be no butcher! 
Besides, do you see how I am placed ? If in putting down this 
riot, which is in >he Government interest, and is behoved to be 
fostered by them, I exceed my duty by a jot, I am a lost man I 
A lost man I Now do yon see ? " 

" I can't think it is as bad as that," said Yanghan. 



CHAPTER XXIX 



AUTUMN LBAYES 

Miss Sibson paused to listen, but hoard nothing. And dig. 
appointed, and with a sigh, she spread a clean handkerchief 
oyer the 'ap of her gown and helpeld herself to part of a round 
of bntter d toast. 

_ " She'll not corac," she muttered. " I was a fool to think 
It I An old fool to think it I " And she bit viciously into the 
toast. ' 

It was long past her usual tea-time, yet she paused a second 
time to listen, before she raised her Brst cup of tea to her lips. 
A covered dish which stood on a brass trivet before the bright 
coal fire gave lorth a savoury smell, and the lamplight, which 
twinkled on sparkling silver and old Nantgarw, discovered 
more than the tea-equipage. The red moreen cnrtalns were 
drawn bef> ••e the windows, a tabby cat purred sleepUy on the 
hearth J ia all Bristol was no more cosy or more cheerful scene. 
Yet Miss Sibson left the eavoury dish nntonched, and ate the 
toast with less than her customary appetite. 

"I shall set," she murmnied, '"The Deceitfulness of 
Kiches for the first copy when the children return And 
for the second, ' Fine Feathers make Fine Birds ' ! And—" 
she continued with determination, though there wag no one to 
be intimidated— "for the third, ' There's no Fool like an Old 
Fool ' I " 

She had barely uttered the words when she set down her 
cup. The roll of distant whecb had fallen on her ears. She 
hstened for a few seconds, then she rose and rang the bell. 

"Martha," she said when the maid appeared, " are the two 
wtrming-pans in the bed ? " 

" To be snre, ma'am." 

" And well fiUed ? " Miss Sibgon asked suspiciously. 

" The sheets are as nigh singeing as yony like, ma'am," 



i86 



CHIPPINGE 



the maid answered. " Yon can imell 'em hen ! I only hope," 
she continued, with a qoaver in her TOioo, "a« we mayn't unell 
fire before we're two dayi older 1 " 

"Smell flddlcgtioki ! " Mira Sibeon retorted. Then, 
" That will do," eho oontinned. " I will open the door myielf ." 

When she did lo the lights of the hackney-coach which had 
stopped before the hcnse, disclosed first Maiy ycrmuyden in 
her furs, standing on the iJ<ep ; secondly, Mr. Fllxton, who had 
placed himself as near her ab he dared ; and thirdly and 
fourthly, flanking them at a distance of a pace or two, a tall 
footman and a maid. 

"Good gracious 1" Miss Sibson exclaimed, dismay in her 
tone. 

"Yes," Mary answered, ahnosl crying. "They would 
come 1 I said I wished to come alone. Good night Mr. 
I'totonl" . . ,.^ ^. .„ 

" Oh, but I— I couldn't think of leavmg yon like this 1 ", 
the Honourable Bob answered. 

He had derived a minimum of satisfaction from bis ride on 
the coach, for Mary had ;shown herself of the coldest. And if 
he was to part from her here he might as well have travelled 
with Brereton. Besides, what the deuce was afoot ? What was 
she doing here ? , „ . , 

» And Baiter is as bad," Mary said plaintively. " As for 

Thomas " , ., . ,■ u- i. . 

» Beg pardon, ma'a ," the man said, toucliing his hat, 
" but it IS as much as my place is worth." . . , ^ 

The maid, a woDian of mature years, said nothing, but 
held her ground, the image of stoUd disapproval. She knew 
Miss Sibson. But Bristd was strange to her ; and the dark 
windy square, with its flickering lights, ite glimpses of gleaming 
water and skeleton masts, and its unseen but creaking wmd- 
lasses, seemed to her, fresh from Lady Worcester s, a most 
unfitting place for her young lady. 

Miss Sibson out the knot after her own fashion. " Wei , 
I can't take you in," she said bluffly. " This gentleman, 
pointing to Mr. Flixton, "will find quarters for you at the 
White Lion or the Bush. And your mistress will sea you 
to-morrow. Thomas, bring in your young lady's trunk. 
Good night, sir," she added, addressing the Honourable Bob. 
« Miss Vermuyden will be quite safe with me." 

" Oh, but I say, Mies Sibson 1 " he remonstrated. " You 



AUTUMN LEAVES 



t«7 



can't mean to teke the moon out of the ikj like thii, and leave 

HI in the dark? Miw Vennuyden "^ . »"" "wve 

" Good night," Mary aaid, not a whit placated by the oom- 
pUment. And she ilipped past Min Sibun into the panairo 

Oh, but ifa not lafe, you know I " he cried, ^^u-re 
not a hundred yard* from the Maniion Hou»e. And if thceo 
beggars make trouble to-morrow— powtively there's no knowinir 
what will happen 1 ' " 

.T^*.. n° >M,^«»"> 0* onnelves," Miw Sibwn replied 
curtly. « Good night, .ir I" And she shut the door in his itaw 
1 J Honourable Bob ghired at it for a time, but it remained 
M T^ \l ^®" " '* notbing to bo done save to go. 

" n lie woman 'he cried. And he turned about. 

.n .T" '?™e'l"ng of ,. shook to him to find the two servanU 
stUl at hi* elbow, patiently regarding him. 

"Where are we to go, sir?" the maid asked, as stolid as 
before. 

"Go?" cried he, staring. "Go? Eh? Wb«t? What 
do yon mean ? " 

" Where are we to go, sir, for the night ? If you'll please 
toshowus,iur. I'm a straneer here." .r f™<i 

" Oh I This is too much 1 " the Honourable Bob cried 
finding himself on a -ndden a famUy man. " Go ? I don't 
care it you go to-—" But there he paused. He put the 
temptation to toll them to go to blazes from him. After aU 
they were Mary's servants. "Oh, very «ollI Very well I" 
he resumed, fuming. " There, get in I Get in I " indicatinit 
the hackney-coach. " And do you," Le continued, turning t5 
Thomas, "toll him to drive to the White Lion. Was there 
ever? That old woman's a neat artist, if ever I saw one I " 

And a moment later Fliiton trundled off, boxed in with 
the mature maid, and vowing to himself that in aU his life he 
had never been so diddled before. 

MeanwhUe, within doors— for farce and tragedy are never 
far apart— Mary, with her furs loosened, but not removed, 
was resisting all Miss Sibson's efforts to restrain ber. 

I must go to her I " she said, with painful persistence. 

• r"??!^" *^ *' *' °°**' "^ y°" P^^**' ^ Sibson. Where 
IS sue I 

, . ,^o'. terel " Mary cried, springing from the chair into 
which Miss Sibson had compelled her. " Not here I " 



•88 



CHIPPINGE 



•' No. Not in tlii« honie." 

"Then why— why did she tell me to come hew?" Mary 
cried dumbfounded. „ . , ,.. 

•' Her lodyihlp is next door. No, my dear I" And Him 
Sibion interpoaed her ample form between Mary and the door, 
" Yon cannot go to her nntil you have eaten and drank. Sha 
dooa not expect yon, and there ia no need of luoh ha«te. She 
may live a fortnight, three weeka, a month even I And 
die mu«t not, my dear, «co you with that «iid face." 

Hary gave way at that. She aat down and bunt into tean. 

The iichoolrai»tre« knew nothing of the onconnter in Bond 
Street, i hing of the meeting on the couch. But she wa§ 
a aagacii woman, and the ditccmcd that aomething more 
than the fatigue of the journey, something more than grief 
for her mothf underlay the girl's denrenion. She said 
nothing, however, contenting heraclf with patting her guest 
on the shoulder and gently removing her wrepa and shoes. 
Then ahe aet afootatoolforher in front of the fire and poured 
out her tea, and placed hot aweetbread before her, and toast, 
and Sally Lunn. And wh6n Mary, touched by her kindness, 
flung her arms round her neck and kissed her, she said only, 
" That's better, my dear ; take your tea, and then I'll tell 
you all I know." 

" I cannot eot anything." 

" Oh yes, yon can t And after that yon are going to see 
your mother, and then yon will come back and take a good 
night's rest. To-i;iorrow you will do as you like. Her lady- 
amp i- with an old aervant next door, through whom she first 
hoaraofme." 

" Why did she not remam in Bath ? 
'I cannot tell you," Miag Sifaaon answered. "She has 
whims. If "ou aak me, I should aay that ahe thought Sir 
Eobert would not find her here, and so conld not take you 
from her." 

" But the servants ? " Mary aaid in dismay. " They will 
tell my father. And, indeed " 

" Indeed what, my dear ? " 

" I do not wish to hide from him." 

" Quite right 1 " Miag Sibaon said. " Quite right, -ny dear. 
But I fancy that that was her ladyship's reason. Perhaps she 
thought also that whea she— that afterwards I ahould be at 
hand to uke care of you. Aa a fact," Miai Sibaon con' .nned. 



AUTUMN LEAVES 



389 



robbing her cheek with the handle of a teaipoon, a raro liirn 
that ihe woi troablcd, " I wish that /our mother had chown 
another pUioc. You don't aik, mj dear, where the children 
are." 

Marr looked nt her hoatoM. "Oh, Miu Siljsonl" iho 
Mclalmed, conecioncc-striokeD. " You cannot Iibto lent them 
away for my >ako ? " 

"No, my dear," Miss Sibson aniwcrcd, notinR with intia- 
faction that Mary waD making a meal. " No, their paronte 
have removed them. The Rccopder ii coming to-morrow, and 
ho IB so unpopular on account of this nasty Bill— which is 
Sittmg every one on horseback whether they can ride or not— 
and there is so much Ulk of trouble when he enters, that all 
the foolish people have taken fright and removed their children 
for the week. It's pure nonsense, my dear," Miss Sibson 
conUnued comfortably. "I've seen the windows of the 
Mansion House broken a score of times at elections, and not 
another house in the Square a penny the worse I Just au old 
custom. And so it will be to-morrow. But the noise may 
disturb her ladyohip, and that's why I wish her elsewhere." 

Mi. did not answer, and the schoolmistress, noting her 

spintless attitude and the dark shadows under her eyes, was 

confirmed in her notion that here was something beyond grief 

the mother she had scarcely known. And Mm Sibson 

t a tug at her own heartstrings. She was well-to-do and 

ill considered in Bristol, and she was not conscious that her 

1 ^ was monotonous. But the gay scrap of romance which 

Mmi7's coming had wrought into the dull patchwork of days, 

long toned to the note of Mrs. Chapone, was welcome to her. 

Her little relaxations, her cosv whist-parties, her hot suppers 

to follow, these she had : but here was something brighter and 

higher. It stirred a long-forgotten youth, old memories, the 

ashes of romance. She loved Mary for it. 

To rouse the giri, she rose from her chair. "Now, my 
dear," she said, " you can go to yonr room if yon will. And 
in ten minutes we will step next door." 

Mary looked at her with grateful eyes. " I am glad now," 
she said, " I am glad that she came here." 

"Ah 1 " the schoolmistress answered, pursint; up her lips. 
And she looked at the giri uncertainly. " It's odd," she said. 
" I sometimes think that yon are jnst— Mary Smith." 

"I ami" the other answered warmly. "Always Mary 

w 



ago CHIPPINGE 

Smith to yon 1 " And the old woman took the yonng one to 
her arms. , , , 

A qnarter of an honr later Maiy came down, and she was 
Mary Smith in truth. For she had put on the grey Qnaker- 
like dress in which she had followed her trunk from the 
coach-oifice six months hefore. 

" I thought," she said, " that I could nnrse her better m 
this than in my new clothes 1 " _ . , .■ 

But she blushed deeply as she spoke ; for if she had this 
thought, she had others, also in her mind. She might not 
often wear that dress, but she would never part with it. 
Arthur Yaughan's eyes had worshipped it ; his hands had 
touched it. And in the days to come it would lie, until she 
died, in some locked coffer, perfumed with lavender, and sweet 
with the dried r je-leaves of her dead romance. And on one 
day in the year ^ would visit it, and bury her face in its soft 
faded folds, and drram the old dreams. 

It was but a step to the door of the neighbouring house. 
But the distance, though short, steadied the girl's mind and 
enabled her to taste that inflnity of the night, that immensity 
of nature, which, like a fathomless ocean, islands the littleness 
of our lighted homes. The groaning of strained cordage, the 
crealdng of timbers, the far-off rattle of a boom came off the 
dark water that lipped the wharves which still fringe three 
tides of the Square. Here and there a rare gas-lamp, lately 
set up, disclosed the half-bare arms of trees, or some vague 
opening leading to the Welsh Back. But for all the two could 
see, a^ they glided from the one door to the other, the busy 
city about them, seething with so many passions, pregnant 
with BO much danger, hiding in its entrails the love, the fear, 
the secrets of a myriad lives, might have been in another 
planet. 

Mary owned the calming influence of the night and the 
stars, and before the door opened to Miss Sibson's knock, the 
blush had faded from her cheek. It was with solemn thoughts 
that she went up the wide oaken staircase, still handsome, 
though dim and dusty and fallen from its high estate. The 
taskhefore her, the scene on the threshold of which she trod, 
brought the purest instincts of her nature into play. Bnt her 
guide knocked, some one within the room bade them enter, 
and Mary advanced. She saw lights and a bed — a four-poster, 
heavily curtained. And half blinded by her ^ears, she glided 



AUTUMN LEAVES 



291 



towardii the bed— or was gUding, when a quernlons voice 
arrested her midwaj. 

" So yoa are come I " it said. And Lady Sybil, who, robed 
ma Bilken dressing-gown, was lying on a small conch in a 
different part of the room, tossed a book, not too gently to the 
floor. " What stuff I What stuff I " she ejaculated wearily. 
"A schoolgbl might write as good I Well, yon are come," 
she continued. " There," as Mary, flung back on herself, bent 
timidly and kissed her, " that will do I That will do 1 I can't 
bear any one near me 1 Don't come too near me I Sit on that 
chair, where I can see you I " 

Mary beat back her tears and obeyed with a qnivering lip. 
«• I hrae you are better," she said. 

" Better 1 " her mother retorted in the same peevish tone. 
"No, and shall not bcl" Then, with a shrill scream, 
" Heavens, child, what have you got on ? " she continued. 
" What have you done to yourself ? Yon look like a saw rf« 
CKarUi!" 

" I thought that I could nnrse you better in this," Mary 
faltered. 

"Nurse me I" 

"Yes, I " 

"Rubbish!" Lady Sybil exclaimed with petulant im- 
patience. " Yon nnrse ? Don't be silly I Who wants you 
to nnrse me ? I want yon to amuse me. And yon won't do 
that by dressing yourself like a dingy death's-head moth I 
There, for Heaven's sake," with a catch m her own voice which 
went to Mary's heart, " don't cry 1 I'm not strong enough to 
bear it. Tell me something I Tell me anything to make me 
laugh. How did yon trick Sir Robert, child ? How did yon 
cheat him ? That will amuse me," with a mirthless laugh. 
" I wish I could see his solemn face when he hears that you 
are gone 1 " 

Mary explained that the summons had found her in London j 
that her father was not there, but that she had had to beat 
down Lady Worcester's resistance before she conld have her 
way and leave. 

" I don't know her," Lady Sybil said shortly. 

" She was very kind to me," Mary answered. 

" I dare say," in the same tone. 

"But she would not let me go until I gave her my 
address." 



»9» 



CHIPPINGE 



Lady Sjbil sat np sharply. " And you did that ? " she 
shrieked. " You gave it her ? " 

" I wag obliged to give it," Mary stammered, "or I could 
not have left London." . 

" Obliged ? Obliged ? " I^ady Sybil retorted, in the same 
passionate tone. "Why, yon fool, yon might have given 
her fifty addresses I Any address I Any address bat this ! 
There I " Lady Sybil continued sullenly, as she sank back and 
pressed her handkerchief to her lips. " You've done it now. 
You've excited me. Give mo those drops ! Those, those 1 
There 1 Are you blind ? And— and sit farther from me 1 I 
can't breathe with you close to me ! " 

After which, when Mary, ahnost heartbroken, had given 
her the medicine, and seated herself in the appointed place, 
she turned her face to the wall and lay silent and morose, 
uttering no sound'but an occasional sigh of lam. 

Meantime, to eyes that could read, the room told its story, 
and told it eloquently. The table beside the couch was strewn 
with rose-bound Annuals and Keepsakes, and a dozen volumes 
baring the labels of more 'than one library; books opened 
only to be cast aside. Costly toys and embroidered nothings, 
vinaigrettes and scent-bottles lajr scattered among them ; and 
on oflier tables, on the mantelpiece, on the floor, a litter of 
similar trifles elbowed and jostled the gloomy tokens of illness. 
Near the invalid's hand lay a miniature in a jewelled frame, 
while a packet of letters tied with a fragment of gold lace, and 
a buhl desk half closed upon a broken fan, told the same tale 
of ennui, and of a vanity which survived the charms on which 
it had rested. The lesson was not lost on the daughter's heart, 
but it moved her only to pure pity ; and presently, wrung by 
a sigh more painful than usual, she crept to the conch, sank 
on her knees, and pressed her cool lips to the wasted hand 
which hung from it. Even then for a time her mother did 
not move or take notice. But slowly the weary sighs grew 
more frequent, grew to sobs, — how much less poignant I — and 
her weak arm drew Mary's head to her bosom. 

And by-and-by the arm tightened its hold, and gripped 
her convulsively, the sobs grew deeper and shook the worn 
form at each respiration ; and presently, " Ah, God, what will 
become of me ? burst from the depths of the poor quaking 
heart, too proud until now to make its fear known. " What 
will become of me ? " 



fe:.^ V \ 



AUTUMN LEAVES 



193 



That cry pierced Mary like a knife, but iU confession of 
weakness made motlier and daughter one. Her feeble arms 
oonld not avert the approach of the dark shadow, whose coming 
terrified thongh it could not chaage. But what human love 
could do, what patient self-forgetf alness might teach, she vowed 
that she would do and teach ; and what clinging hands might 
conipass to delay the end, her hands should compass. When 
Miss Sibeon's message, informing her that it was time to return, 
was brought to her, she shook her head, smiling, and locked 
the door. " I shall be your nurse after all ! " she said. " I 
shall not leave you." And before midnight, with a brave con- 
tentment, for which Lady Sybil's following eyes were warrant, 
she had taken possession of the room and all its litter ; she 
bad tidied as much as it was good to tidy, she had knelt to 
heat the milk or brush the hearth, she had smoothed the 
pillow, and sworn ' score of times that nothing, no Sir Robert, 
no father, no foii,o should tear her from this her duty, this 
her joy — until the end. 

No thought of her dull childhood, no memory of the days 
of labour and servitude which she owed to the dying woman, 
no reflection on the joys of wealth and yonth which she had 
lost through her, rose to mar the sincerity of her love. Much 
less did such thoughts trouble her on whose flighty mind they 
should have rested heavily. So far indeed was this from being 
the case, that when Mary stooped to some oflice which the 
mother's fastidiousness deemed beneath her — 

" How can yon do that 1 " Lady Sybil cried peevishly. 
" I'll not have you do it I Do you hear me, girl ? Let some 
servant see to it I Wliat else are they for I " 

"But I used to do it every day at Clapham," Mary 
answered cheerfully. She had scarcely spoken before, aware 
of the reproach which her words conveyed, she could have 
bitten her tongue. 

But Lady Sybil did not wince. " Then ^y did yon do it ? " 
she retorted. " Why did you do it ? AVhy were you so foolish 
as to stoop to such things ? I'm snre you didn't get your poor 
spirit from me I And Vermuyden was as stiff as a poker I 
But *here I I remember the prince saying once that ladies 
went out of fashion with hoops, and gentlemen with snuff- 
bcxes. You make me think he was right. Oh, clumsy t " she 
continued, raising her voice, " now you are turning tne light 
on my face ! Do you wish to see me hifleoas ? " 



394 



CHIPPINGE 



Mary moved it. " I» that better, mother," she asked. 

Lady SybU cast a reaentf al glance at her, " There, there, 
let it be 1 " ahe said. " You can't help it. You're hke your 
father. He never could do anything right I I suppose I am 
doomed to have none but helpless people about me. 

And so on, and so on. Like many invalids, she was most 
lively at night, and she continued to complain through long 
restless hours ; with the candles burning low and lower, and 
the snuffers coming into more frequent request. Until with 
the chill before the dawn she fell at last into a fitful sleep ; 
and Itoy, creeping to the close-curtained windows to cool 
her weary eyes, peeped out and saw the grey of the monvng. 
Before her the Sqnare was beginning to discover its half-bare 
trees and long straight rows of houses. Through openings 
here and thv re, the water glimmered misUly ; and on the 
height facing Uer the tall tower of St. Mary Eedcliffe rose 
above the roofs and pointed skywards. Little did Mary think 
what the day would bring forth in the deserted place on which 
she looked ; or in what changed conditions, under what stress 
of mind and heart, she would, before the sun set twice, view 
that Square. 



CHAPTER XXX 

THE MAYOE's BECEPTIOS IN QUEEN'S SQUABB 

The day, of which Mary watched the cloudy opening from her 
mother's window, was drawing to a close ; and from a bonse 
in the same Square — but on the north side, whereas Miss Sib- 
son's vas on the west — another pair of eyes looked out, while 
a heart, which a few hours before had been as sore as hers, rose 
a little at the prospect. Arthur Yaughan, ignorant of her 
proximity — to love's shame be it said — sat in a window on the 
first floor of the Mansion House, and, undismayed by the fi«< 
que-' crash of glass, watched the movements of the swaying, 
shouting crowd, which occupied the middle space of the Square, 
as well as the roadways, clustered upon the Immortal Memory, 
overflowed into the side streets, and noiT joined in one mighty 
roar of " Reform I Reform I " and now groaned thunderously 
at the name of Wetherell. Behind Yanglun in the same room, 
some twenty or thirty persons argued and gesticulated ; at one 
time approaching a window to settle a debated point, at another 
scattering with exclamations of anger as a missile fell among 
them. 

•' Boo I Boo 1 " yelled the mob below. " Throw him out 1 
Reform t Reform 1 " 

Yaughan looked down on the welter of moving face?. He 
saw that the stone-throwers were few ; that the dare-devils, 
who at times adventured to pull up t'ue railings which guarded 
the forecourt, were fewer. But he saw alw> that the mass 
sympathised with them, egged them on, and applauded their 
exploits. And he wonde^ what would happen when night 
fell, and wondered again why the peaceable citizens who 
wrangled behind him made light of the position. The glass 
was flying, here and there an iron bar had vanished from the 
railings, night was approaching. For him it was very well. 
He had aooompanied Brereton to see what would happen, and 
if the adventure proved to be of the first class, so much the 
295 



tgS 



CHIPPINGE 



better. Bat the good pursy citizens behind him, who, when 
they were not deafening the Uttle Mayor with their counsels, 
were making a jest of the turmoil, had wives anfl daughters, 
goods and houses within reach. And in then _.ice he felt 
ihat he would have been far from easT. ,..,,. 

By-and-by it appeared that some of them shared his feelmga. 
For in a momentary lull of the babel outside, a voice he knew 

'^°*°" Nothing ? You call it nothing ? " Mr. Cooke~for his 
was the voice-cried. "Nothing, that His Majesty sjndgo 
has been hooted and pelted from Totterdown to the Guildhal ? 
Nothing, that the Recorder of Bristol has been hunted like 
a criminal from the Guildhall to this place 1 You ca'l it 
nothing, sir, that His Majesty's Commission has been flouted 
for six hours by all the riffraff of the Docks ? And with halt 
of decent Bristol applauding ? " 

"Oh no, nol^' the little Mayor remonstrated. "Not 
applauding, Mr. Cooke ! " ^ . 

" Yes, sir, applauding I " Cooke retorted with vigour. 

" And teach Wetherell a lesson 1 " some one m the back- 
ground muttered. , , , ., , j 

The man spoke low, but Cooke heard the words and 

wheeled about. . . , . ■ i- »• 

"There, sirl" he cried, stuttering in his indignation. 
"What do yon say to that? In your presence, the Kings 
Judge is insulted. Bui I warn you," he continued, " I warn 
you all 1 You are p'aying with tire 1 Yon are laughing m 
your sleeves, but you'll cry in your shirts I You, Mr. Mayor, 
I call upon you to do your duty 1 I call upon yon to summon 
the military and clear the streets before worse comes of it. 

" I don't— I really don't think that it is necessary, the 
Mayor answered pacifically. " I have seen as bad as this, 
Mr. Cooke, at half a dozen elections." . r. 

The town clerk, a tall, thin man, who wore his gown thongn 
he had laid aside his wig, struck in. 

"Quite true, Mr. Mayor!" he said. "The fact is, the 
crowd thinks itself hardly used if it is not aUowed to break 
the windows on these occasions." . „ „ , ^ . , 

" By G— d, I'd teach it a lesson then 1 Cooko retorted. 
" It seems to me it is time some one did I " ., , ^ 

Two or three said the same. But the main part smiled at 
Cooke's heat as at a foolish display of temper. 



THE MAYOR'S RECEPTION 



»97 



" I've seen u mnch many times," eaid one, ahniggiiig his 
■honlden. " And no harm done 1 " 

" I've seen wone I " another answered. " And after 
all," the speaker added with a wink, "it is good for the 
glaziers." 

Fortunately Cooke did not hear this. Bat Taughan heard 
it, and judged that the rioters had their barkers within as well 
as without ; and that within, as without, the notion prevailed 
that the GoTernment would not be pleased if the 'coTement 
were roughly checked. A proverb about the wisdom oi deu'lng 
with the beginnings of mischief occurred to him. But he 
supposed that the aothorities knew their bnsiness and Bristol, 
and could gauge the mob and the danger, of which they made 
so light. 

Still he wondered. And he wondered more three minutes 
later. Two serrante brought in lighto. Unfortunately these 
revealed the interior of the room to the mob, and the change 
was the signal for a fusillade of stones so much more serious 
and violent than anything which had gone before that a quick 
sauve qui pevt took place. Vaughan was dislodged with the 
others ; and in two minutes the room was em^y, and the mob 
were celebrating their victory with peals of Titanic langhter, 
accompanied by fierce cries of " Throw him ont I Throw out 
the d d Recorder I Reform I " 

Meanwhile the compny, with one broken head and two or 
three -palii faces, had taken refuge on the landing behind the 
drawing-room, the stairs ascending to which were guarded by 
a reserve of constables. The Mayor and bis satellites were 
beginning to look at one another, and Yanghan noticed that 
more than one was shaken. Still the little Mayor retained his 
good-humonr. 

" Oh dear, dear 1 " he said indulgently. " This is too bad I 
Really too bad t " 

"Ve'd better go upstairs," Sergeant Ludlow, the town 
clerk, suggested. " We can see what passes as well from that 
floor as from this, and with less risk I " 

"No, but really this is growing serioos," a third said 
timidly. " It's too bad, this 1 ** 

He had scarcely spoken, and the Mayor was pausing, as if 
he did not quite like the idea of retreat, when two persons, 
one with a bandaged head, came quickly up the stairs. 

" Where's the Mayor ? " cried the first. 



■98 



CHIPPINGE 



And then, '■ Hr. Mnyor, thojr arc ptuhinK M too hard," 
Baid tho aocond, an oRloer of iitMioial oonilabJei. " We mtut 
have help, or tliay will pull Ibo tiouM nbont onr eon." 

" Oh, uonwnao I " 

" Dut It's not nouHOiiBo, sir I " 

"Hut " 

" You miut road (ho Riot Act," the other, who wm the 
Undnr-Shoriff, chimed In. "And tho noner the better, 
Mr. Mayor. We've half a dozen men bndly hnrt. In my 
opinion yon ihould nnd for the militarr." 

The pononi on the landing luokoa ugluMt at one another. 
What, danger 7 Beully— danger ? Half a docen men Uidly 
hnrt ? Then one raodo an cfTori to carry it off. 

" Send for tho military ? " he gnaped. " Oh, but that ii 
atenrd I " 

The othen did not ipeak, and the Mayor looked upiet. 
Perhaps for the first time ho appreciated the rcsponaibility 
which Uy on hig shouldora. M!eanwhilo Vnughan saw all ; 
and Cooke laughed malioionBly. 

" Perhaps you will listen now," ho said. " Yon would not 
listen to me I 

" Dear, dear," the Mayor quaverp ' . " Is it as serious as 
that, Mr. Hare ? " Ho turned to t: , Town Clerk. " What 
do you advise ? " he asked. 

" I tiiink, with Mr. Hare, that yon should read the Biot 
Act, sir." 

" Very well, I'll come down at onoe," the Mayor assented 
with spirit " Only," he continued, looking round him, " I 
beg that some gentleman known to be on the side of reform 
wifi attend me. Who has the Biot Act ? " 

" Mr. Burgcs. Where is he ? " 

" I am here, sir," replied the gentleman named. " Quite 
ready, Mr. Mayor. If yon will say a word to the crowd, I am 
sure they will listen." 

• ■•••■• 

Twenty minutes later tho same group, but with disordered 
clothes and sickly faces — and as to Mr. Burgos, with a broken 
h^ — stood again on the landing. In those twenty minutes, 
despite the magic of (he Biot Act, the violence of the mob had 
grown. They were beginning to talk of bcming the Mansion 
House, were calling for straw, were demanding lights. Dark- 
ness had fallen, and there conld be no question now (hat the 



WW 



THK MAYOR'S REC>?1>TI0N aff 

poiition was nrioiu. Tho Mayor, who, holow Main, Iiad 
shown a Bood courofte, tnrned to tho Town Clork. 

" Onght I to tend tor the military ? " ho oiikcd. 

" I think wo nhould take Hir CharlcB Wctherell'« opinion," 
the thin man aniwcrod, HhiftioK tho burden from tiin own 
ahouldon. 

" Tho Roonor Bir CharleH is Rono tho Iwttcr 1 " cried Cooko. 
" If we don't want to liavo his blood on our heads." 

"I am with Mr. Cooko then;," tho Undor-SherifT OHW-ntcd. 
llo woH ri«poiniblfl for tlio Judgf^'s safety. "Hir Charli t 
should lio got away. That's the first thing to ho done, llii 
cannot hold the Assizes, and J cannot be responsible if he 
stays." 

" Jonah I " Homo ono raulterotl with a sneering langk 

Tho Mayor turned about. " That's very improper I " be 
said. 

" It's very improper to send a judge who is a politician ! " 
the voico answered. 

" And against tho Bill 1 " a second jeered. 

" For shame I For shame t " the Mayor cried. 

" I fancy, sir," the Under-sheriff struck in, " the gentlemen 
who have just spoken — I can guess their names — will be sorry 
before morning I They will find that it is easier to kindle 
a fire than to put it out 1 But— silence, genthimen I Silence I 
Here is Sir Charles t " 

Wetherell bad that moment opened the door of his private 
room, of which tho window looked to the liack. He showed 
no sign of foar, but his faco betrayed surprise at the siglit of 
twenty or thirty persons huddled in disorder at the head of the 
stairs. The lights which had survived the flight from the 
drawing-room flared in the draught of the shattered windows, 
and the wavering illamination gave a sinister cast to the scene. 
The rattle of stones on the floor of tho rooms exposed to the 
Square — varied at times by a roar of voices oi a rush of feet 
in the ball below — suggested that the danger was pr-nsing, and 
that tlie assailants might at any moment break into the bnilding. 

Sir Charles let his eyes travel over the group. Tlien, 
" How long is this going on, Mr. Under-Sheriff ? " he asked, 
plunging hu hands deep m his breeches' pocketa. 

"WeU, Sir Charles " 

" They seem " — with a touch of sternness — " to be carrying 
the jest rather too far." 



300 CHIPPINGE 

•' Mr. Cooke," the Meyor «jd, » niihet me to call out the 

Wetiierell ihook hii head. "No, no," he laid. "You 
cannot say that life is in danger ? " 

The Under-sheriff iitepp^ forward. "I can say, sir, he 
answered firmly, " that yours is in danger. And m senons 

"fretherell planted his feet farther apart, and thrust his 
hands lower into his pockets. 

" Oh no, no," he said. ,.,,,., 

" It is yes, yes, sir," the Under-Shcriff replied Uuntly. 
" Unless you leave the house I cannot be responsible I I 
cannot, indeed, Sir Charles." 

"But " 

" Listen, sir 1 If yon don't wish a very terrible catastrophe 
to happen, you must go 1 By G— d you must I " ihe Under- 
Sheriff repeated, forgetting his manners. 

The noiso below had swollen suddenly. Cnes, blows, and 
shrieks ascended the staircase, and announced that at any 
moment the party might have to defend their lives. At the 
prospect thug suddenly presented, respect for dignities took 
flight ; panic seized the majority. Constables, throsting aldei^ 
men and magistrates aside, raced up the stairs, and bundled 
down again laden with beds with which to block the wmdows •, 
the picked men who had guarded the foot of the staircase left 
their posts in charge of two or three wounded comrades, who 
groaned dismally. , , , , „ n 

Mr. Cooke struck his hand on the balusters. By 
Heavens 1 " he said, " this is what comes of your d— d Reform 1 
Your d— d Reform I We shall all be murdered 1 " 

" For God's sake, Mr. Mayor," a quavering voice cried, 
" send for the military." 

" Ay 1 the soldiers. Send for the soldiers 1 
" Certainly," said the Mayor, who was cooler than most. 
"Who will go?" . , . J 

A man volunteered. On which Vanghan also stepped 

forward. . „ , .. 

" Sir Charles," he said, "yon must reture. Your duties are 
at an end, and your presence hampers the defence. Penn>' 
me to escort you. I am unknown, and can pass through the 
streets." 

Wetherell, as brave, stout stolid man as any 



man in 



THE MAYORo RECEPTION 



JO' 



Eogland, betitatcd. But ho uw that it noald noon be every one 
for bimielf. The din waa waxin); louder and more menacing ; 
the group on the atain was melting away. In terror on their 
own aoconnt, the officiali were beginning to forget bia presence. 
Several bad already gone, seeking to save themselves, this way 
and that. Otbera were going. Every moment the oonfnsion 
increased, and the panic. 

" Yon think I onght to go, Vanghan ? " be asked, in a low 
voice. 

" I do, sir," Vanghan answered. 

And, entering the Recorder's room, be brought onl Sir 
Charles's bat and cloak and hastily thrust tbcm on him. As 
bo did this bis eye alighted on a constable's staS which lay 
w'aere its owner had dropped it. Thinking that be might as 
well possess himself of it, be left Wetherell's side and waa 
going to pick it np, when a roar of sonnd, as sudden as the 
explosion of a gun, onrst np the staircase. Two or three cried 
in a fre>>zied way that the mob were coming ; some fled this 
way, some that, a few to windows at the back, more to the 
upper story, wlule a handful obeyed V^nghan's call to stand 
and hold the head of the stairs. For a brief space all was 
disorder and— save in his neighbourhood — ^penio. Then a 
voice below shouted that the soldiers were come, and a general 
"Thank Ood t Not a moment t«o soon 1 " was heard on all 
sides. Vanghan made sure that the news waa true, then he 
turned to rejoin Sir Charles. 

But Wetherell had vanished, and no one could say in which 
direction. Vaughan hurried npstaiia and along the passages 
in anxious search ; but in vain. One told him that Sir Charles 
bad left by a window at the l»ck ; another, that be had been 
seen with the Under-sheriff. He could learn nothing certain, 
and was asking himself what he should do, when the sonnd of 
cheering reached his ear. A man who met him told him that 
the mob was cheering the soldiers. 

" That's good news I " Vanghan answered. 

"I'd say so, too," the other rejoined glomly, "if I was 
certain on which side the soldiers were I But you're wanted, 
sir, in the drawing-room. The Mayor asked me to find you." 

" Very good," Vanghan said, and, following the messenger 
to the room he had named, found himself in the presence of 
the Mayor and of four or five officials who looked woefully 
shaken. With them were Brereton and the Hon. Bob, both 



301 



CHIPPINGE 



in anifurm. The itono-throw ing bod ooaaod, for tho front o( 
the huiuo wai now goardod hj > double line of troopen in red 
cloaki. LigbU, too, bad been bronght, and the danger Memed 
to be over. Bnt about thii council there wot none of the eaijr 
contempt which had charooteriied tho one held an hour before. 
Tho lenon had been loamt in a meaanrc. 

The Major looked at Vaughan. " Ii thii the gentleman ? " 
ho aiked. 

"Yes, that ii tho gentleman who got ui together at the 
head of the itain," a peraon, a stranger to Vanghan, anawered. 
"If he," the man continued, "were pnt in charge of the 
constables, who are at sixoi and soTens, wo might manage 
something." 

A voice from the background mentioned that it was Mr. 
Vanghan, the Member for Onippinge. 

" I shall be glad to do anvthing I can," Vanghan said. 

"In support of tho miiitarr," the tall, thin Town-olcrk 
interposed. " That must be nnaentood." 

And he looked at Colonel Brereton, who, to Vaaghan's 
surprise, had not acknowledged his presence. 

" Of oonne, of course," said the Mayor, pacifically. " It is 
understood that Oolonel Brereton will ose bis utmost force to 
clear the street* and qniet the city." 

" I shall do what I think right," Brereton replied, stonding 
np straight, with his hand on his sword-hilt, and looking, 
among the ilostered citizens, like a Spanish hidalgo among a 
troupe of peasants. " I shall do what is right," he repeated, 
stubbornly ; and Vaughan perceived that, qniet as he seemed, 
he was labouring under strong excitement. " I shall walk my 
horses about. The crowd ore perfectly good-hnmonred, and 
only need to be kept moving." 

The Town-clerk exchanged a glance with a neighbour. 
" But do yon think, sir," he said, " that that will be sufficient ? 
Yon are aware that great damage has been done already, and 
that had your troop not arrived many lives might have been 

" That is all I shall do," Brereton answered. " Unless the 
Mayor gives me an express and written order to attack the 
people." 

The Mayor's face was a pictore. " I ? " he gasped. 

" Yes si." 

" But I "could not take that responsibility," the Mayor 



THE MAYOR'S RECEPTION 



JOJ 



orlod. " I eonldn't, I reallr oonldn't t I mn't judge, Culonel 
Brercton— I am not • miutary man — whether it ii neccwtry 
or not" 

" I (honld ooniider It unwiie," Brereton tn ed. 

" Tory good I Then yon mn«t nie jonr di^vi >:tion." 

" Thot'i what I inppoaed," Brereton rctarned, not maakini; 
hii contempt for the vacillation of thoio about him. " In that 
caae I ahall punne tlie line of oction I have indicated. I iball 
walk my hones up and down. Ihe crowd are perfectly rooU- 
hnmonred. Well— what ia it ? " 

A man hod entered the room and woa whiipering iu the 
Town-clerk'i ear. The lat.«r Btraigbtcned himnolf with a 
heated face. 

" You call them good-hnmonred, air ? " he aaid. " I bear 
that two of yonr men, Colonel Brercton, have been broneht 
in severely wonnded. I do not know whether you call that 
good-hnmonr ? " 

Brereton's face betrayed his annoyance. " They must have 
brought it on themselves," he said, " by some rashness. Your 
oonstnblea have no discretion." 

"I think," the Town-clerk persisted, "yon shonld at least 
clear ibe Square and the neighbouring streets." 

" I have indicated what I shall do," Brereton replied, with 
a gloomy look. " And I am i -spared to be responsible for 
the safety of the city. If you wish me to act beyond my 
judgment, the civil power must give me an express and written 
order." 

Still the Mayor looked uneasy, though he did not dare to 
do what Brereton suggested. Tno howls of the rabble suil 
rang in his ears, and before his eyes he had the black, gaping 
casements, through which an ommous murmur entered. Ho 
had waited long before calling in the military, he had hesitated 
long i for Peterloo had erased Waterloo from the memory of 
an ungrateful generation, and men, secure abroad and straining 
after reform at home, held a red-coat in distaste, if not in 
suspicion. But having called the red-coats in, the townsfolk 
loosed for something more than this, for some stroke which 
would cast terror into the hearts of misdoers. The Town-clerk, 
in particnlar, had his doubts, and when no one else spoke he 
put them into words. 

" May I ask," he said, " if you have any orders, Colonel 
Brereton, from the Secretary of State or the Horse Guards, 



304 CHIPPINGE 

which prercnt yon from obeying the directions of the 
magistrates ? " . , t 

Brereton looked at him sternly. " No," he said, " I am 
prepared to obey your orders, stated in the manner I have laid 
down. Then the responsibility will not lie with me." 

But the mayor stepped back. "I couldn't take it on 
myself, sir. I— God knows what the consequences might 
be I " He looked round piteously. " We don't want another 
Manchester massacre." 

" 1 fancy," Brereton answered, " that if we have another 
Manchester business it will go ill with those who sign the order I 
Times are changed since '19 — and governments 1 I think we 
understand that. Ton leave it to me then, gentlemen ? " 

No one spoke. 

" Very good," he continued. " If your constables will do 
their duty with discretion — and you could not have a better 
man to command them that Mr. Vaughan, but he ought to be 
going about it now— I will answer for the peace of the city." 

" But — but we shall see you again. Colonel Brereton, ' the 
Mayor cried. 

" See me, sir ? " Brereton answered contemptuously. " Oh 

yes, you can see me 1 But " He shrugged his shonlders, 

and turned away without finishing the sentence. 

Vaughan knew then that, cool as Brereton seemed, he was 
not himself. A moody stubbornness had taken the place of last 
night's excitement, but that was all. And as the party trooped 
downstairs— he Imd requested the Mayor to say a few words, 
placing the constables under his control — he swallowed his 
private feelings and approached Flixton. 

"Flixton, he whispered, throwing what friendliness he 
could into his voice. " Do you think Brereton's right ? " 

Flixton turned an ill-humoured face towards him, and 
dragged at his sword-belt. 

" Oh, I don't know," he said irritably. " It's his business, 
and I suppose he can judge. There's a deuce of a crowd, I 
know, and if we go charging into it we shall be swallowed up 
in a twinkling I " 

" But I hear," Vaughan replied, " that he has told the people 
that he's for Beform. And they think that the soldiers may 
side with liem ? Is not that unwise ? " 

" Fine talking," Flixton answered with a sneer. " And God 
knows if we had five hundred men, or three )iundred, I'd a^re^, 



With. 






THE MAYOR'S RECEPTION joj 

But what can sixty or eighty men do galloping over slippery 
pavements in the dark ? While if we fire and kill a dozen, the 
Government will hang us to clear themselves I And these d— d 
nigger drivere and sugar-boilers behind us will be the first to 
swear against us 1 " 

Vaughan had his own opinion. Put they had to part. 
Flixton in his blue uniform — ther- wcr;, Iwo troops present, 
one of the 3rd Dragoon Guards i-. red, and ono of the 14th 
Dragoons in blue— went out by B- ■ roi on's sida v ith bis spurs 
ringing on the stone pavement and i.''^ STor,l clar king. Mean- 
while Vaughan, who could not see tht oid biue cuiform without 
a pang, went with the Mayor to marshal the constables. 

Of these no more than eighty remained, with little stomach 
for the task before them. That task, indeed, was far from easy. 
The ground-floor of the Mansion House looked like » place 
taken by storm and sacked. The railings which guarded the 
forecourt were gone, even the wall on which they stood had been 
demolished to furnish missiles. The doorways and windows, 
where they were not barricaded, were apertures inviting 
entrance. In one room lay a pile of straw ready for kindling. 
In another lay half a dozen wounded men. Everywhere the 
cold wind, blowing off the water of the Welsh Back, entered by 
a dozen openings and extinguished the flares as quickly as they 
could be lights, casting now one room and now another into 
shadow. 

But if the men had little heart for further exertions, 
Vaughan's manhood rose to meet the call. Bringing his 
soldier's training into play, in a few minutes he had his force 
divided into four companies, each under a leader. Two he 
held in reserve, bidding them get what rest they could ; with 
the other two he manned the forecourt, and guarded the flank 
which lay open to the Welsh Back. And as long as the 
troopers rode up and down within a stone's-throw all was well. 
But when the soldiers passed to the other side of the Square a 
rush was made on the house — mainly by a gang of the low Irish 
of the neighbourhood— and many a stout blow was struck 
before the rabble, who thirsted for the strong ale in the cellars, 
conld be dislodged from the forecourt and driven to a distance. 
The danger was not great, though the tale of wounded grew 
steadily; nor conld the post of Chief Constable be held to 
confer much honour on one who so short a time before had 
dreamt of Cabinets and portfolios, and of a Senate hanging on 

X 



30* 



CHIPPINGE 



his words. But the joy of conflict was something to a stent 
W, and the sense of snccess. Something, too, it was to feel 
that where ho stood his men stood ; and that where he was 
not the Irish, with their brickbats and iron ters, made a way. 
There was a big lout, believed by some to be iv Brummagem man 
and a tool of the Political Union, who more than once led on 
the assailants ; and when Vaughan found that this man shunned 
him and chose the flank where he was not, that too was a joy. 
" After all, this is what I am good for," he told himself as 
he stood to take breath after a w^Ke which was at once the most 
serious and the last. » I was a fool to leave the regiment, he 
Snned, stanching a trickle of blood which ran from a cut 
on his ch^k bone. " For, after all, better a good blow than a 
bad speech 1 Better, perhaps, a good blow than nil the speeches, 
Pood W bad 1" And in tlie heat of the moment he swung his 
im. The^then he thought of Mary and of Fhxton, and his 
heart sank, and his joy was at an end. 

» Don't think theyMl try us agam, sir," said an old pensioner 
who had known the neigh of thewar-W w.'^/ J^"™"!-;! 
and who had constituted himself his orderly. "If we had had 
you Tthe beginning we'd have had no need of the old Blues, 
nor the Third either I " , „ ^ ,. , 

" Oh, that's rubbish 1 " Vaughan replied. , . ,^„ 

But he owned the flattery, and his heart warmed to the 
pensioner j whose prediction proved to be correct. The crowd 
melted after that. By eleven o'clock there were but a couple 
of hundred in the Square. By twelve, even these were gone. 
A half-dozen troopers, and as many tatterdemalions shnking 
about the dark comers, were all tU remained of tlje com- 
batante ; and the Mayor, with many words, presented Vaughan 
with the thanks of the city for bis services. 

"It is gratifying, Mr. Vaughan," he added, "to find that 
Colonel Brereton was right." 

" Yes," Vaughan readily agreed. And he took his leave, 
carrying off his staff for a memento. , . , ., .„ .,,„ 

He was very weary, and it wsia not the shortest way to the 
White Lion, yet his feet carried him across the dark Square and 
past the Immortal Memory to the front of Miss Sibson;s house 
ft showed no lighte to the Sguare, but in a fi-^t-Aoof ^•5'^°'' °f 
the next house he marked a ?aint radiance as of a sladed tap», 
and the outline of a head-doubtless the head of some one 
looking out to make sure that the disorder was at an end. US 



THE MAYOR'S RECEPTION 307 

Baw, but love was at fault. No inner voice told him that the 
head was Mary's 1 No thrill revealed to him that at that very 
moment, with her brow pressed to the cold pane, she wa« 
thinking of him I With a sigh, and a farther fall from tho 
l';:;ht-hcartedne8s of an hnnr before, he went his way. 

Broad Street was quiet, but half a dozen persons were 
^thcred before the White Lion. They were listening : and one 
of them told him that tho Blues in beating back a pcrty from 
the Council House, had shot a rioter. In the hall he found 
others debating the act with heat, but they fell silent when they 
saw him, one nu.lging another j and he fancied that they paid 
especial attention to him. As he moved towards tho office a 
man detached himself from them and approached him with a 
formal air. 

" Mr. Vanghan, I think ? " he said. 

"Yes." 

"Mr. Arthur Vanghan?" the man, who was a complete 
stranger to Vanghan, repeated. " Member of Parliament for 
Chiprange, I bsheve ? " 

" Reform Member ? " 

Vanghan eyed him narrowly. " If yon are one of my con- 
stitnents, he said dryly, " I will answer that question." 

I am not one," tho may -.lioined, with a litt'fl less 
confidence. " Bat it's my bus. w» 

in your own interests, that the 
will not commend you to them 1 
people very roughly, I am told, 
Mr. Here — " 

"You may bo Mr. Here or Mr. There," Vanghan said, 
cutting hm» short-but very quietly. « But if yon say another 
word to me, I will throw you through that door for your 
"npndence I That is all. Now— have yon any more to say ? " 

I. . . ^^,^*" '"*^ ** "^"y ■' off> ^or 'here was sniggering 
behind him. Bat Vanghan's blood was np, the agitator read 
it in the young man's eye, and bemg a man of words, not deeds, 
he fell back. Vanghan went np to bed. 



- warn you, Mr. Vanghan, 
u have been taking hero 
xon have been handling the 
Very roughly I Now, I am 



CHAPTER XXXI 



SUNDAY IN BKI8T0L 

It was far from Vanghan'a humour to play the Mly. »nd 
Worhe La even re5:hed hia bedroom which ookcd to the 
Wk he reoented of hia vehemence. Between that and the 
^n^d tSl of hia feelinga he Uy long ^-^^^{'^LT^l 
in a BtiUneaa which proclaimed that all waa well, he heard tso 
Rrratol dOTte tell t^e hour. After all. then, Brereton had 
KigKnd he Wl been wrong. He, had the command 
bSn hlwould have adopted more strennona mmurra. He 
^uldhavT tried to put^tte into the mob before 'he no 
Sed ite height. And how dire might have been the <»MC- 
^nc^ I How many homea might at th» °'0'"«»' ^J"""^" 
?Dg hU action, how many innocent persona be suffering pam 

""^mSi Brereton, the strong, quiet man, resisting impor- 
tnnitv aCnine haate, keeping hialead where others wavered 
tod S °he cirthiongt iU trouble, with K^arce the loss of 
a single life. Truly he was one whom— 

" Noil civium ardor prava jnbentium, 
Non ToltuB iDBtentia tyianm 
Hente qnatit aolida I 

Vanghan thought of him with a new reapect, and of himseU 
wkh Vnew humility. He waa forced to acknowledge that even 
fa that filld Taction which he had quitted, and to which he 
was now inclined to return, he was not likely to pick up a 

"""H^aleS'i^Uenglh, and long and heavUy, awaking towards 
ten o'cff with ^hing limbs and a cheek ao aore that m r 
tinkling it brought all back to him. He found hia hot water 
a^hS d^r, and he dressed slowly and despondently, feeling 
thel^tton and thmking of Mary, and of that sunny morning, 
ah ninths back, wheu Ee had looked mto Broad Sti-eet from 
308 



SUNDAY IN BRISTOL 



309 



a window of this same house, and dreamed of a modest bonnet 
and a sweet blushing face. An hour after that, he remembered, 

he had hiippcned on the Honourable — oh, d Flixton 1 All 

his troubles had started from that unlacky meeting with him. 

He found his breakfast laid in the next room, the coffee 
and bacon in a Japan cat by the fire. He ate and drank in 
an atmosphere of gloomy retrospect. If he had never met 
Flixton 1 If he had not gone to that unlucky dinner at Chip- 
pinge! If he had spoken to her in Bond Street I If— if— if 1 
The bolls of half a dozen churches were ringing, drumming his 
regrets into him ; he stood awhile irresolute, looking through 
the window. The inn-yard, which was all the prospect the 
window commanded, was empty ; an old liver-and-whito pointer, 
scratching itself in a corner, was the only living thing in it. 
But while he looked, wondering if the dog had been "a good 
dog in its time, two men came running into the yard with every 
sign of haste and pressure. The leader, who wore a yellow 
jacket, flung himself against a stable door and vanished within, 
leaving the door open. The other pounced on a chaise, one of 
half a dozen ranged under a shed, and by main force dragged 
it into the open. 

The men's actions impressed Vanghan with a vague un- 
easiness. He listened. Was it fancy, or did he catch the sound 
of a distant shot ? And there seemed to be an odd murmur 
in the air. lie seized his hat, put on his caped coat— for a 
cold drizzle was falling — and went downstairs. 

The hall was empty, but through the doorway ho could see 
a knot of people, standing outside, looking up the street. He 
made for the threshold, and asked the rearmost of the starers 
what it was. 

" Eh, what ? " the man answered volubly. " Oh, they're 
gone 1 It's true enough i And such a crowd as was never 
seen, I'm told— stoning them, and shouting ' Bloody Blues ! ' 
after them. They're gone right awav to Keynsham, and glad 
to be there with whole bones 1 " 

" But what is it ? " Yaughan asked impatiently. " What 
has happened, my man ? Who're gone ? " 

The man turned for the first time, and saw who it was. 
" You've not b> .' I, sir ? " he exclaimed. 

" Not a won.. ' 

"Not that the people have risen, and most part pulled 
down the Mansion House ? Ay, first thing this morning, sir 1 



310 



CHIPPINGE 



1^ 



They «ay old Pinney the Mayor, got out at the back just in 
time or he'd have been murdered 1 He's had to send away the 
Bines who killed the lad last night on the Pithay." _ 

" Impossible I " Vaughan exclaimed, turning red with 
anger. You cannot have neard aright." 

" It's as true as true I " the man replied, rubbing his hands 
in excitement. "As for me," bo continued, "I was alwavs 
for Beform, and this will teach the Lords a lesson I They 11 
know our mind now, and that ■WetbereU's a liar, begging your 
pardon, sir. And the old Corporation's not much better. A 
set of Tories mostly 1 If the Welsh Back drinks their cellars 
dry it won't hurt me, nor Bristol.'' 

Vaugbim was -oo sharply surprised to rebuke the man. 
Could the story be true 1 And, if it were, what was Brereton 
doing ? He could not have been so foolish as to halve his 
force in obedience to the people he was sent to check ! But 
the murmur in the air was a fact, and past the end of the 
street mtn were running in anything but a Sunday fashion. 

He went back to his room and pocketed his staff. Then 
he descended again and was on his way out, when a person 
belonging to the house stopped him. 

" Mr. Vaughan," she said earnestly, " don't go, sir. You 
ore known after last night, and will come to harm. And you 
can do no good. My father says that nothing can be done 
until to-morrow." ,.,,.,, t. ^ v 

" I will take care of myself," he replied bghtly. But his 
eyes thanked her. He pushed his way through the gazers at 
the door, and set off towards Queen's Square. 

At every door men and women were standing looking out. 
In the distance ho could hear cheering, which waxed louder 
and more insistent as, avoiding the narrower lanes, he passed 
down Ctore Street to Broad Quay, from which there was an 
entrance to the north-west corner of the Square. Alongside 
the quay, which was fringed with warehouses and sheds, lay » 
line of brigs and schooners, the masts of the more distant 
tapering to vanishing-point in the mist which lay upon the 
water. At the moment, however, Vaughan had no eye for 
these. His thoughts were with the rioters, and in a twinkling 
he was within the Square, and seeing what was to be seen. 

He judged that there were not more than fifteen hundred 
persons present, of whom about one-half belonged to the 
lowest class. These were gathered about the Mansion House, 



SUNDAY IN BRISTOL 



jil 



»omo drinking before it, others bearing up liquor from the 
(fUara, while others again were tearing ont the woodwork of 
'jio casements, or wantonly flinging the last remnants of furni- 
ture from the window* The second moiety of the crowd, less 
reckless or of higher position, looked on as ut a show j or now 
and again, at the bidding of some active rioter, raised a cheer 
for Reform, " The King and Ecf orm 1 Keform I " 

There was nothing dreadfui, nothing awe-inspiring in the 
sight. Yet it was such a sight, for an English city on a Sunday 
morning, that Vaughan's gorge rose at it. A hundred resolute 
men might have put the mob to flight. And meantime, on 
every point of vantage, on Hedcliffe Parade, eastward of the 
Square, on College Green, and Brandon Hill, to the westward 
of it, thousands stood, looking in silence on the scene, and Jby 
their supineneas encouraged the work of destruction. 
■ He thought for a moment of pushing to the front and 
tying what a few reasonable words would eflFect. But, as he 
advanced, his eye caught a gleam of colour, and in the comer 
of the Square, most remote from the disorder, he discovered a 
handful of dragoons, seated motionless in their saddles, watch- 
ing the proceedings. 

The folly of this struck him dumb, and he hurried across 
the Square to remonstrate. He was about to speak to the 
sergeant in charge, when Flixton, with a civilian cloak masking 
his uniform, rode up to the men at a foot-pace. Vaughan 
turned to him instead. 

" Good Heavens, man I " ho cried, too hot to mince his 
words or remember at the moment what there was between 
him and Flixton, " What's the Chief doing ? What has hap- 
pened ? It is not true that he has sent the Fourteenth away ? " 

Flixton looked down at him. " He's sent 'em to Keyn- 
sham," he said sulkily. " If he hadn't, the crowd would have 
been out of hand ! " 

" But what do you call them now ? " Vaughan retorted, 
with angry sarcasm. " They are destroying a public building 
in bread daylight 1 Ain't they sufficiently out of hand ? " 

Flixton shrugged his shoulders, but did not answer. He 
was flushed and his manner was surly. 

" And your squad here, looking on and doing nothing t 
They're worse than useless I " Vaughan continued. " They 
encourage the beggars I They'd be better in their ^oarters 
than here 1 Better at Keynsbam," ho added bitterly. 



3ta 



CHIPPINGE 



"So I've told him," Flixton answered, taking the htst 
words literallv. " And he sent me to see how things are 
looking. A d— — d pleasant way this is of spending a wet 
Sunday I " 

On which, having seen, apparently, what ho came to see, 
bo tnmed hia horse to go out of the Square by the Broad 
Quay. 

Vanghan walked a few paces teside the horse. "But, 
Flixton. press him," he said urgently, " press him, man, to 
act I To do something I " 

"That's all very fine," the Hononrable Bob answered 
churlishly ; " but Brereton's in command. And yon don]t 
catch me interfering. 1 am not going to take the responsi- 
bility off his shoulders." 

"But think what may happen to-night 1 " Vanghan urged. 

Already he saw that the throng was growing denser and 
its movements less random. Somewhere in the heart of it 



a man was speakmg. 

" Think what may happen after dark, if they are as bad as 
this in daylight ? " 

Flixton looked askance at him. " Ten to one, only what 
happened last nifrht," he answered. " Yon croaked then, but 
Brereton was right." 

Vanghan saw that he argued to no purpose. For Flixton, 
forward and positive in small things and on the surface, was 
discovered by the emergency ; all that now remained of his 
nsnal self-assertion was a sense of injnry. Vanghan inquired, 
instead, where he would find Brereton, and as by this time 
the crowd had clearly outgrown the control of a single man, 
he contented himself with walking round the Square, and 
learning, by mingling with the fringe, what manner of spirit 
moved it. 

That spirit, though he heard some ngly threats against 
■Wetherell and the Bishops and the Lords, was rather a reckless 
and mischievous than a bloodthirsty one. To obtain drink, 
to destroy this or that gaol, and by-and-by to destroy all gaols, 
seemed to the crowd the first principles of Beform. 

Presently a cry of " To the Bridewell I Come on I To the 
Bridewell I '' was raised, and led by a dozen hobbledehoys, 
armed with iron bars plucked from the railings, a body of some 
hundreds trooped off, helter-skelter, in the direction of the 
prison' of that name. 



SUNDAY IN BRISTOL 



313 



yanehan «aw that some ono mngt be induced to act ; and 
to him the following honrg of that wet, diamal Snndav were a 
wakinr; nightmare. He hnrried hither and thither, from the 
Gnildm II to the Council House, from Brereton'i lodgings to 
the oragoons' quarters, striving to effect something and always 
failing ; seeking some cohesion, some decision, some action, 
and finding none. Always there bad just been a meeting, or 
was going to be a meeting, or would lie a meeting by-and-by. 
The civil power would not act without the military j and the 
military did not think itself stro jg cnuneh to act, but would 
act if the civil power wonid do somethmg which the civil 
power had made up its mind not to do. And meantime the 
snpineness of the mass of the citizens was marvellous. Yaughan 
seemed to be moving endlessly between lines of men who 
lounged at their doors, and joked, or waited for the crowd 
to pass that way. Nothing, it seemed to him, would rouse 
these men to a sense of the position. It would be a lesson to 
Wetherell, they said. It would be a lesson to the Peers. It 
would be a lesson to the Tories. The Bridewell was sacked 
and fired, the great gaol across the New Cut was firing, the 
Gloucester gaol in the north of the city was threatened. And 
still it did not occur to these householders, as they looked down 
the wet, misty streets, that presently it would be a lesson to them. 

But at half-past three, with the dusk on that rainy day 
scarce an hour off, there was a meeting at the Ouildhall. 
Still no cohesion, no action. On the other hand, mnch recrimi- 
nation, many opinions. One was for casting all firearms into 
the float. Another for arming all, fit or unfit. One was for 
fetching the Fourteenth back, anotlor for sending the Third 
to join them at Eeynsham. One waa for appeasing the people 
by parading a dnmm^ figure of their own Recorder through 
the city and burning it on College Green. Another for relying 
on the Political Union. In vain Yaughan warned them that 
the mob would proceed to attack private property ; in vain he 
offered, in a few spirited words, to lead the special constables 
to the rescue of the gaol. The meeting, small to begin and 
always divided, dwindled fast. The handful who were ready 
to follow him made the support of the military a condition. 
Everybody said, " To-morrow 1 " To-morrow the posse comi- 
tatus might be called ont ; to-morrow the yeomanry, summoned 
by the man in the yellow jacket, would be here ! To-morrow 
the soldiers might act. And in fine — To-morrow I 



3M 



CHIPPINGE 



There wai over the door ot (he Council Hodm of thoM 
days Q statDO of Joilioe, vhich for some roawn lacked the 
Bword and the bandage. Vanghan, paning oat in diignst 
from tho mcetintr, pointed to it. 

"There is Brigtol, gentlemen," he laid bitterly. **Yoar 
authorities have dropped the sword, and until they regain it 
' are helpless. I have done my best." 

And, shrugging his Bhonlders, he started for Breretou's 
lodgings to try a last appeal. 

llo miglit well think it necessary. For a night which 
Bristol was long to remember was closing down npon the city. 
Though it was Sunday, the churches were empty ; in few was 
a second service held. The streets, on the contrary, were full, 
in spite of '^i cold ; full of noise and turmoil and disorder ; 
of bands oi uien hastening np and down with reckless cries 
and flaring lights, at the bidding of leaders as unwitting. In 
Queen's Square the rioters were drinking themselves drunk as 
at a fair ; while amid the .falling rain, through which the last 
stormy gleams of daylight strove to pass, amid the thickening 
dusk, those who all day long li u jelled at their doors began 
to turn doubtful looks on out. a i i jer. From three points the 
smoke of fired prisons rose to the clonds and floated in a dense 
pall over the city; and men whispered that a hundred, two 
hundred, flve hundred criminals had been set free. On Clifton 
Downs, on Brandon Hill, on College Green, on Bedcliffe the 
thousand pazers of the morning were doabled and redoubled. 
But tbey no longer wore the cynical faces of the morning. 
On the contrary, there were some who, following with their 
eyes the network of waterways, laden with inflammable shipping, 
which pierced the city in every direction — who, tracing these 
and the sinuous alleys and slt^p lanes about them, predicted 
that the morning would find Bristol a heap of ruins. And 
not a few, taking fright at the last moment, removed their 
families to Clifton, and locked up their houses. 

Yaughan, as he walked through the dusk, had those water- 
ways, those lanes, those alleys, the congested heart of the old 
city, in his mind. He doubted, even ue, if the hour for action 
was not past. And he was not surprised when Brereton met 
his anpeal with a flat non possumut. Bnt he was surprised by 
the cnange which twenty-four hours had wrought in the man. 
He looked worn and haggard. The shadows nnder his eyes 
were deeper, the eyes shone with a more feverish light. His 



SUNDAY IN BRISTOL 



VS 



dreti, too, wu duordend, and while he woi not ttill for a 
moment, ho repeated what ho Baid over and over again aa if to 
persuade himself of its truth. 

Naturally Vaughan laid rtress on tho damage already done. 

" But, I tell you," Brcreton answered angrily, " we are 
well clear for that 1 It's not a tithe of the harm we'd have 
suffered if I had given way I I've done, thank God, the only 
thnig it was possible to do. A little too much, and if I'd 
■uoceeded I'd have been hung— for they're all against me, 
they're all against me, above and below I And if I'd failed, 
a thousand lives would have paid the bill! And do you 
consider, ho continued, striking the table, " what a massacre in 
this crowded place would bo 1 Think of the shipyards, tho 
dockyards, the quays 1 Tho water-pita and the sunk alleys 1 
How could I clear them with ninety swords ? How could I 
clear them? With ninety swords? I tell yon they never 
meant me to clear them." 

"But why not clear tho wider streets, sir?" Vaugliau 
persisted, " and keep a grip on those ? " 

"No I I say, no I " 

" Yet even now, if you were to move yonr full force to 
Queen's Square, sir, you might clear it. And driven from 
their headquarters, and tauglt that they were not going to 
have their own way, the more prudent would fall off and go 
home." 

"I know," Broreton answered. "I know the argnment. 
But who's to thank for the whole trouble ? Your Blues, who 
went beyond their orders last night. The Fourteenth, sir I 
The Fourteenth I Bat I'll have no more of it. Flixton is of 
my opinion, too." 

' Flixton is an ass I " Vaughan cried incautiously. 

" And you think me one too I " Brereton retorted, with so 
strange a look that for the first time Vaughan was sure that 
his mind was off its balance. " Well, think what you like 1 
Think what you like I But I'll trouble you not to take that 
tone here." 



CHAPTER XXXII 



THE AFFRAY AT THB FALACB 

A MTTLI before the hour at vhich Vaufthan interriewed 
Brereton, Sir Robert Verranydcn, the arrival of wbose travelliDg 
carriage at the White Lion about the middle of the afternoon 
had eaased aome excitement, walked back to his inn. He was 
followed by Thomas, the servant who had attended Mnry to 
Bristol, and by another servant. As he passed through the 
streets the signs of the , times were not lost upon him ; f<iT 
from it. But the pride of caste was strong in him, and he 
hid his anxiety. 

On the threshold of the inn he turned to the servants, 
" Are you sure," he asked for the fourth time, " that that was 
the house at which yon left her ? " 

" Certain sure. Sir Bobert," Thomas answered earnestly. 

"And sure — but, ah I " The baronet broke off abruptly, 
his tone one of relief. " Here's Mr. Cooke I Go now, but be 
within call. Mr. Cooke " — he stepped as be spoke, in front 
of that gentleman, who was abont to enter the house — " well 
met 1 " 

Cooke was hot with haste and ire, bnt at the unexpected 
sight of lir Robert he stood still. 

" Go . bless my soul I " he cried. " Yon here, sir ? " 

" Yes. And you know Bristol well. Yon can help me." 

" I wish I could help myself I " Cooke cried, forgetting his 
manners in his excitement. 

" My daughter is in Bristol." 

" Indeed 1 the angry merchant replied. " Then she could 
not be in a worse place. That is all I can say I " 

" I am inclined to agree with yon." 

" This is your Reform 1 " the other cried. 

Sir Robert stared. " Not my Reform, Mr. Cooke," he said 
in a tone of displeasure. 

316 



THE AFFRAY AT THE PALACE 317 

" I b«g yonr pBidon, Sir Robert," Cooke rejoined, ipi»kiDL' 
more coolly. " I bep; your imrdon. Hut what I hovo Buffurcd 
to-day 11 beyond tolling. By 0— d, it's my opinion thnt tliero'i 
only one man worthy of the name in Britol 1 And that'i 
yonr connin, the Radical." 

Sir Robert struck hii atick on the pavement. "Mr. 
Vanghan ? " he exclaimed. " He is hero, then ? I feared so." 

"Yon feared, by G— d ? I tell yon he's the only man, to 
je called a man, who ii here I If it bad net been for him 
and the way he handled the constables last night we should 
have been burnt out then, instead of to-night I I don't know 
that the gain's much, but for what it's worth we have him to 
thank I " 

Sir Robert frowned. " Indeed ! " he said. " I am surprised 
to hear it. He behaved well ? " 

,., " D— d well ! D— d well I If there had been half a dozen 
hke bun we'd be out of the wood 1 " 

"Where is he staying?" Sir Robert asked after a 
momentary hesitation. "I've lost my daughter in the con- 
fusion, and I think it possible that he may know where she is." 

" Ho is staying here at the Lion," Cooke answered. " But 
he s been np and down all day trying to put heart into 

Eoltroons." And he ran over the chief events of the last few 
ours. 
He punctuated the story with oaths and bitter complaints, 
and perhaps it was for this reason that Sir Robert broke away 
as soon as he had heard the main facts. The baronet went 
through the hall to the bar, where the landlord, who knew 
him, came forward and greeted him respectfully. But to Sir 
Robert's inqu'.ij ..-i to M;-. Vaughan's whereabonU he shook 
his head. 

" I wish he was in the honse, your honour," he said in a 
low voice. " For he's a marked man in Bristol since last 
ni^ht. I wag in the Square myself, and it was wonderful what 
spirit he put into his men. But the scum and the riffraff who 
are uppermost to-day say he handled them cmelly, and my 
daughter tried to persuade him from showing himself. But he 
would go, sir." 

Sir Robert reflected with a gloomy face. " Wheie are Mr. 
Flixton's quarters ? " he asked at last. He might possibly leam 
something from him. 

The man told biia, and Sir Robert summoned his setvaate 



3i8 



CHIPPINGE 



and went ont. It wm dark by tha time, bat a t^fS^^ 
sbone overhead and there was a mnrmnr in the "f? ^ f' '?r? 
gloom beneath, the heart of the city was palpitating,, m dread 
of it knew not what. Sir Robert had not far to go. He had 
tarelyS into College Green when ho met Flixton, nnder 
Sn^d two minntes later Vanghan on hw way from 
toreton'B lodgings in Unity Street, ««»« P °™P °f "^'^^^ 
He miffht ^a gone by in ignorance, but aa he pwaod, the 
ta-toman looked^p, an^ Vanghan, with a .hook of surprise, 
recoenised Sir Robert Vermuydon. 

Fliiton caught sight of Vanghan at the same moment, 

""^"Here's yonr man, Sir Robert," he cried, with » little 
malice in his tone. " Here, Vanghan," he continued, " here is 
CRoSrtVermuydenl He's looking for you. He wants to 

"""sii^bert stopped him. "I will «peak for pyseU.Mr. 
FlUton, if yon plei^he said, with the dignity ^ich seldom 
debited hii. " Mr. Vaughan," he continued, wiA a piercmg 

■^^^u'gh'anretoZtt^k'^thinter^t. Since «iei«^ 
ing in Miss Sibson's parlour, the remembrance of which stUl 
Mt hfa Wood in a flamCsir Robert and he had not met Now, 
KS^'^of oXe Green, under a rare gas-tamft'm^^ 
turmoU about them, and 'he murmur of fre^ trouble drawmg 
near tbrongh the streets. Sir Robert ."jsk^tim for his 
daughter 1 He could have laughed, -^/t,*?*-- ,. , 

S I taow nothing, sir, of your daughter, he renhed. 

"BnV Sir RobSt retorted, " yon travelled with her from 

London 1" j-j,.. 

" How do you know that I did ? 
" The servants, sir, told me that you aid. . ■ ^ 

.. Then they must also have told you," Vanghan, rejoined, 
"that I didnot take the liberty of speaWng to M«. Vermuyden. 
And that I left the coach at Chippenham. .That being so, I 
am only refer yon," he continuecf coldly, raismg his hat Mid 
^p^ring to move on. "to Mr. Fliiton. who went with her 

"'''d'^%Z''Ke"had not taken two pice, before 
Sir Robert tonched his shoulder. 

"Wait, sir," he said, " wait, if yon plewe. Ton do not 
escape me so easily. You will attend to me one moment. Mr. 



THK AFFRAY AT THE PALACE 



319 



Flixton accompanied Miu Vennnyden, as did her man and 
maid, to Mice Sibson'g house. She gave that address to Lady 
Worcester, in whose care she was ; and I sought her there this 
afternoon. But she is not there," Sir Robert continued, 
striving to read Vaughan's face. " She is not there. The 
house is empty. So is the house on either side. I can make 
no one hear.^' 

"And yon come to me for news of her ? " Vaughan asked 
in the tone ho had used throughout. He was verv sore. 
" I do." ' 

"You do not think that I am the last person of whom you 
should ask tidings of your daughter ? " 

" She came here," Sir Bobert answered stemlr, " to see 
Lady Sybil." 

Vaughan stared. The answer seemed to be irrelevant. 
Then he understood. 

" Oh," he said, " I see. Yon are still under the impression 
that your wife and I are in a conspiracy to delude yon ? Yon 
think that your daughter is in the plot ? And that she gave 
the schoolmistress's address to deceive you ? " 

" No 1 " Sir Robert cried. But, after all, that was what be 
did think. Had he not told himself, more than once, that she 
was her mother's daughter ? Had he not told himself that it 
could not have been by chance that Vaughan and she met a 
second time on the coach ? He knew that she had left London 
and gone to her mother in defiance of him. And though she 
had entwined herself about his heart, though she had seemed 
to him all gentleness, goodness, truth— she was still her 
mother's daughter I Nevertheless, he said "No 1 "—and said 
it angrily. 

" Then I do not know what you mean I " Yanghan retorted. 
" I believe that yon can tell me something." 
Vaughan looked at him. " I have nothing to tell yon," he 
said, stubbornly. 

" You mean, sir, that you will tell me nothing I " 
"That, if you like." 

For nearly half a centnrv the old man had found few to 
oppose him, and now by good luck he had not time to reply. 
A man running out of the darkness in the direction of Unity 
Street — the place was f nil of moving groups, of alarms and con- 
fusion— caught sight of Vaughan's face, checked himself and 
addressed hun. 



320 



CHIPPINGE 



"Mr VauKhanl" he said. » They are coming 1 They 
are makin-' for the Palace 1 The Bishop must be got away, if 
?"« noT^^one I I am going for the Colonel I The Mayor « 
following with all he can get together. If you will g»vewara- 
ine at tTe Palace, there will be time for his lordship to escape. 
^ « Rieht," Vanghan cried, glad to leave hu company. And 
he started without the loss of a moment. Even so, he had not 
eone S paces down the Green before the head of the mob 
K^it frowst. Augustine's, and passed, with hoarse hou^ 
along the south side, towards the ancient Archway which 1^ 
to the Lower Green. It was a onestion whether he or they 
reached the Archway first ; but le won the race by a score 

"^ 'rhe view from the Lower Green, which embraced the burn- 
ing gaol, as weU aa aU Queen's Square and the I^loat>ng ?«'». 
SSl^wn together a number of gazers. These imp^ed 
VVnghTn's progress, but be got through them at last, and m 
the mob bSrst inti the Lower Green he entered the paved 
TOSsaee leading to the Precincts, hurried along it, turned the 
Sdbow nfar the inner end, and halted before the high 
X. which shut off the Cloisters. The Pakce door was m the 
Sinermost or south-east comer of the Cloisters. , 

It was very dark at the end of the passage ; and fortunately. 
For the gates were fast closed, and kfore he could, groping, 
find the knocker, the rabble had enter^ the P«?«fobehiad 
Wm and cut off his retreat. The high wall which rose on 
either side made escape impossible ifor was this all. As he 
awoke to the trap in which he had pkced tlms«^^ « ^'Ll 
his elbow muttered, " My God, we shaU be murdered 1 And 
he learned that Sir Eobert had followed him. 

hS no time to remonstrate, nor thought of remonstrance. 
•' Stand flat against the wall 1 " he mutterea, his fingera closing 
nnon the staff in his pocket. " It is our only chance 1 
"hadtarely spoken before the leaders of the mob swept 
romid the elbow. %ey had one light, a flare home above 
them, which shone on their tarpaulins and white smocks, and 
on?he huge ship-hammers they carried. There was a sin^ 
moment of grert peril, and instinctively Vaughan stepped 
E the oSTm^. He could not h*ve made a happier 
movlen^ for it seemed to the crowd who caught a ghmpse 
of the two, as if he advanced against the gates along with their 
l^eiB. 



THE AFFRAY AT THE PALACE jj, 

n. l}l^f indeed, or the worst of it, was over the moment 
they fell mto the ranks. « nammers to the front 1 " was the 
cry. And Sir Robert and Vanghan were thrust back into the 
second hne, that those who wielded the hammers might have 
room. Vaughan tipped his hat over his face, and thlmlBans 
who pressed upon the two and jostled them, and whose cries of 
Burn him ont 1 Bum the old devil out ! " were dictated by 
greed rather than hato, were too fuU of the work to regard 
their nerghbours closely. In three or four minntes-long 
mmutes thev seemed to the two enclosed in that unsavoury 
wmpany-the bare ^ve way, the gates were thrown open, and 
Vaughan and Sir Robert, hardly keeping their feet in the rah, 
were borne into the Cloisters. 

The rabble, with cries of triumph, raced across the dark 
Murt to the Palace door and began to use their hammera on 
that. Vanghan hoped that the Bishop had had warning— in 
truth he hod escaped some houre earlier. At any rate, he saw 
that he and his companion could do no more, and under cover 
of the darkn^ they retreated to the porch of a smaller house 
which opened on the Cloistera. Here they were safe for the 
time ; and, his heart opened and his tongue loosed by the 
danger through which they had passed, he turned to his com- 
panion and remonstrated with him. 

" Sir Eobert," he said, " this is no place for a man of your 

"England will soon bo no place for any man of my years." 
the baronet answered bitterly. "I would your leaders, sir. 
were here to see their work I I would Lord Grey wore here 
to see how well his friends carry out his hints I " 

"I doubt if he would be more pleased than yon or 1 1 " 
Vaughan answered. " In the mean time " 

" The soldiers I Have a care 1 " 

The alarm came from the gate by which they had entered, 
and Vaughan broke off with an exclamation of joy 

"We have them now!" he said. "And red-handed I 
themS?! ""* °° ' ** ""^ V^^ge, and he must take 

But the riotera took that view also, and the alarm. And 
they streamed out panic-stricken. When the soldiers rode 
in, Brereton at their head, not more than twenty or thirty 
remained m the Precincto. And on that followed the most 
remarkable of all the scenes that disgraced Bristol that night ; 



li I 



3,j CHIPPINGE 

the scene which beyond others convinced many of 'l'\o°^; 
nUcitfoUhe troo™, if not of the Government, in the ontrago. 
"otamn^^d leave the Palace except «"h^the troo™ 
■roodwill vet they let the rascals pass. In vain a handfal of 
gooowui, yet luBY ^^^ on the heels of the mihtary, 
SSS ^'e-^Wes^ s^e snch » passed with plnnder in their 
t^ ThTsoldiers dUconraged the ,''«. and even ^t 
Wk the constables. "Let them gol Let them go was 
^e cry ind the nimbleness of tie scamps m escaping was 

^■^ugtn tf tS- companion whom fate had so strangely 
ioinL &ese things wSh indignation. »«' Va°ghanlad 
nfup his mind that he would not "PP^^^J Brereton apim , 

^d he wntroUed himself nntil » I'l"*^^''^ ^i''°f 'him bv 
^^with his arms full of spoil was seijed, close to him, by 
2^eriy mai^who seemed to^ one of the Bishop's servanta. 
The two mestled fiercely, the servant caUing for help, the 
^die« lo^^ron and/uughing ^ ---' ^^.^^^y 
feU to the gic'ind, the servant undermost. He nttered a cry 

"^^h^t was too much for Vanghan He sp^ng forward^ 
dragged the ruffian from his prey, and drev his ttaft Hejras 
S to strike his prisoner-f or the '"''" ^'Ti^.S ! 
dMneratelv— when a vo ce above them shouted Put that up i 
ffi^t UT) 1 " And a trooper nrged his horse almost on the 
toJoUhem, at the »me time thr^tening him with his naked 

'""viughan lost his temper at that. "You blackguard I " 
he cried "Stand back. The man is my prisoner I , 

For answTthe soldier struck a,t Wm fortunately the 
blade was turned by his hat, and only the Ajlfl'gf ^.^^^"^ 
head But the man, drunk or reckless, reputed the wow, Mia 
tuf time wodd haVe cut him down if Six Eobert, w th a 
nnfrknesa Cond his years, had not turned aside the stroke 
TtZ Sg-^e! At the same time, in a tone of 

""T&^eToumad ?" heshouted. "Where is yonrColond?" 

Th^Uie!X than the words, sobered the trooper He 

wore sulkily, reined in his horse, and moved back to ws 

dto^ SS B^hert turned to Vanghan. who, da.ed by the 

blow, was leaning against the porch of the house. 

" 1 hope you are not wounded ? ne saia. 



THE AFFRAY AT THE PALACE 



3»3 



"It 8 thanks to yon, sir, he's not killed 1 " the man whom 
Vaughan had rescued answered; and ho hnng about him 
solicitonsly. "He'd have cut him to the chin! Ay, to the 
chm, he would I "—with quavering gusto. 
«T JlBS''"" '''? regaining his coolness. He tried to smile. 
I hardly saw what happened," he said. " I am only sure I 
am not hurt. Just— a rap on the head I " 

" virj gtad^r ^^ '' ^ °° "'*"*'" ^"^ ^'^'* "^^ ^^"'y- 

Now it was over he had to bite his lower lip to repress its 
tremblmg. "^ 

" Ton feel better, sir, now ? " the servant asked, addressing 

" Yes, yes," Vaughan said. 

But after that he was silent. And Sir Eobert was silent 
too. Ihe soldiers were withdrawing ; the constables, outraced 
and indignant, were following them, declaring aloud that they 
were betrayed. And for certain the walls of the Cathedral 
bad looked down on few stranger scenes, even in those troubled 
days when the crossleta of the Berkeleys first shone from their 
casements. 

Vaughan thought of the thing which had happened ; and 
what was he to say ? The position was turned upside down. 
The obligation was on the wrong person ; the boot was on the 
wrong foot. If he, the young, the strong, and the injured, 
haa saved Sir Eobert, that had; been well enough. But this ? 
It required some magnanimity to take it gracefully, to bear it 
with dignity. ' 

"I owe you thanks," he said at last, but awkwardly and 
with constraint 

" The blackguard 1 " Sir Eobert cried. 

" Yon saved me, sir, from very serious injury." 

" It was as much threat as blow 1 " Sir Eobert rejoined. 
I don't think so," Vaughan returned. And then he was 
silent, finding it hard to say more. But after a pause, " I can 
only make yon one return," he said, with an effort. " Perhaps 
you will believe me when I say that upon my honour I do not 
know where your daughter is. I have neither spoken to her 
nor communicated with her since I saw her in Queen's Square 
in May. And I know nothing of Lady SybU." 

" I am obli^ to yon," Sir Eobert said. 

" Jf you believe me," Vaughan said. " Not otherwise 1 " 



And Sir Bobcrt said 



;: i: 



3,4 CHIPPINGE 

" I do believe yoo, Mr. Vanghan." 
it as if he meant it. , . -rr v j 

" Then that is something gained," Vanghan MSwered, 
" besides the sonndness of my head." Try as he m.ght, he felt 
the position irksome, and was glad to seek refuge in fljPpanoy. 

fe Robert removed his hat, and stood in perplexity. "Bnt 
where can she be ? " he asked. " It yon know nothing of her. 

Vanehan paused before he answered. Then, J tnmk i 
should look for her in Qneen'a Square," he suggested. In 
that neighbonrhood neither life nor riroperty wiU be safe until 
Bristol cornea to ito senses. She shonld be removed if she he 

"I will take yonr advice and try the house again," Ba 
Eobert rejoined. " I think yon are right, and I am much 

"fie pnt^ to hat on his head, but removed it to salute 

tli6 other. _ 1 ■« !• J J. i» 

"Thank yon," he repeated, " I am mnch obhged to yon. 

And he departed across thf court. , . . v 

Halt-way to the entrance, he paused, and fingered his chin. 
He went on again ; again he paused. He took a step "r two, 
turned, hesitated. At last he came slowly back. 
" Perhaps yon will go with me ? " he asked. _ 
« Ton are very good," Vaughan answered, his voice shaking 

Was it possible that Sir Eobert meant more than he said ? 
It did seem possible. , 

But after all, they did not go ont that way. For, as they 
approached the broken gates, shouto of " Reform 1 and 
"Down with the Lords I " warned them that the notere were 
returning. And the Bishop's servant, approaching them again, 
insisted on taking them through the Palace, and by way of 
the (tarden and a low wall, conducted them intoTnnity Street. 
Here they were close to the Drawbridge which crossed the 
water to the foot of Clare Street ; and they passed over it, 
one of them walking with a lighter heart, notwithstandmg 
Mary's possible danger, than he had borne for weeks. Soon 
they were in Queen's Square, and, avoidine ag f ar as pomible 
the notice of the mob, were knocking doggedly at Miss Sibson s 
door. Bnt that time the Palace, high above them on CoU^ 
Green, had burst into flames, and, a sign to aU the country 
side, had flung the red banner of Reform to the night. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 

FIBEl 

^'L^"^' "^\ Wf. wmpanion might have knocked longer and 
^~^iL°''^ ""^ '"" ^ "° P'^'T'ose. For the schoolmiatres^ 
S!S^ ^7i^T ? "^"^^ "'°°'"'' «f disorder on tS 
Sator^y, had been taken aback by the sight which met her 
eves when she rose on Sunday morning. And long before noon 
she had sent her servants to their friends, locked up her house, 
^^ /Tv.,"*"' '^~""' ^ "^P*' ^y ''«'• *eerful flee and he^ 
™wwu common-sense the fears which she knew would 
prevail there. The sick lady was not in a state to withstand 
^, Mary was a young girl and timid, and neither the land- 
Sri S-L .^Jl}'^\ """d *«" P«™<»" of strong mind. 
Miss Sibson felt tlu^t here was an eiceUent occasion for the 
display of that stmdy indifiference with which firm nervM wd 
a long experience of Bristol elections had endowed her 

„.„J^ ,"^-rt^'',' "?"* ^"^ ^"' '«"°">^ "it's all noise and 
S?rT k F^/? look very fieree, but there's not a man of 

Ttf**^', 1/ ^^ ^ '°"""^'y ^y 'l'* «"' «nd said, ' John 
Thomas Gaisford I kr v you weU and your wife I Yon live 

ril ?in w"^/ "^^ "^ y-"" ^'"'\«° '*™'S'" 1'0'°« *is minute 
^», " ^Z °^ 7T P'T °° ' -'here's not one of them, my 
d«ir, with a joUy h.xxg^, "wouldn't sneak off with his taH 
S^i^f-^ ir- Hurt us, my lady ? I'd like to see them 
doing It. Still, It wiU be no harm if we lock the door dow" 
stairs, and answer no knocks. We shaU be cosy upstairs, and 
see all that's to be seen besides I " j t- . >* 

f),. a*"^ were Miss Sibson's opinions, a little after noon on 
awKfV V}^^^^^ ^y *?San to draw in, without 
abating the turmoil, did she recant them aloud. But when the 
servant who found amusement in listening at the locked door 
JkA 1 , 'I'osej'ip passed, came open-eyed to announce 

that the people had fired the Bridewell, and were attacking the 
3'5 



336 



CHIPPINGE 



H ' 



gaol, Miffl SilMon did rob her r ^^e reflectively. And privately 
Bbe began to wonder whether t.. prophecieg of evil, which both 
partiet had sown broadcast, were to be fulfilled. 

" It'a that naity Brongham 1 " she said. _ " Alderman 
Daniel told me that he was stirring np the devil ; and we're 
going to get the dnst. Bnt la, bless your ladyship," she con- 
tinn^ comfortably, " I know the Bristol lads, and they'll not 
hut ns. Jnst a gaol or two, for the sake of the frolic. Hy 
dear, yonr motherll have her tea, and will feel the better for it. 
And we'll draw the cnrtains and light the lamps and take no 
heed. May be there'll be bones broken, bnt they'll not be ours 1 

Lady SyUl, witli her face tamed away, mattered something 
aboat Paris. 

•' Well, yonr ladyship knows Paris and I don't," the school- 
mistress replied reBpeotfully. "I can fancy anything there. 
Bnt yon may depend npon it, my lady, Jlngland is different. 
I know old Alderman Daniel calls Lord John Enasdl * Lord 
John Robespierre,' and says he's worse than a Jacobin. But 
I'll never bdieve he'd cut the King's head off ! Never I And 
don't yon believe it, eitherj my lady. No, English are English I 
There's none like them, and never will be. All the same," she 
conolnded, " I shaU set ' Honour the King 1' for a copy 
when the ycfnng ladies come back." 

Her views might not have convinced by themselves. But 
taken with tea and buttered toast, a good fire and a singing 
kettle, tiiey availed. Lady Sybil was a shade easier that after- 
noon; and, naturally of a high courage, fonnd a certain 
alleviation in the exciting doings under her windows. She was 
gracious to Miss Sibson, whosdupntpourings she received with 
kaguid amusement; and wh* Mary was not looking, she 
followed her daughter's movements with mournful eyes. Un- 
certain as the wind, she was this evening in her best mood ; as 
patient as she could be fractions, and as gentle as she was 
sometimes violent. She scouted the notion of danger with all 
Miss Sibaon's decision ; and after tea she insisted that the 
lights should be shaded, and her couch be wheeled to the 
wndow, in order that, propped high with pillows, she might 
amuse herself with the hurly-burly m the Square below. 

" To be sure," Miss Sibson commented, " it wiU do no good 
to any one, this ; and many a poor chap will suffer for it by- 
and-by. That's the worst" of these Broughams and Besoms, 
my lady. It's the low down that swallow the dust. It's very 



FIRE! 



3=7 



flno to cry <Km(f and Refonn 1 • and drink the Corporation 
wine I Bnt it will be ' Between onr sovereign lord the King 
and the prwoner at the bar I ' one of these davB I And their 
throats will bo dry enough then I " 

" Poor misguided people I " Mair murmured. 

" They've all learned the Charch Catechism," the school- 
mistress replied shrewdly. " Or thev should have ; it's lucky 
for them— ay, yon may shout, my lads— that there's many a 
■lip between the neck and the rope — Ijoid ha' mercy I " 

The last wordi fitted the context well enough j but they 
feU so abruptly from her lips that Mary, who was bending over 
her mother, looked up in alarm. 

" "What is it ? " she asked. 

" Only," Miss Sibson answered with composure, " what I 
ought to have said long ago that nothing can be worse for her 
ladyship than the cold air that comes in at the cracks of this 
window ! " 

" It's not that," Lady Sybil replied, smiling. " They have 
let fire tr the Mansion House, Mary. You can see the flames 
in the rooui on the farther side of the door." 

Mary uttered an exclamation of norror, and they all looked 
out. The Mansion House was the most distant house on the 
north, or left-hand side of the Square, viewed from the window 
at which they stood j the house next Miss Sibson's being 
about the middle of the west side. Nearer them, on the same 
side as the Mansion House, stood another public building— the 
Custom House. And nearer again, being the most northerly 
house on their own side of the Square, stood a third— the 
Excise Office. 

They had thus a fair, though a side view, of the front of 
the Mansion House, and were able to watch, with what calm- 
ness they might, the flames shoot from one wmdow after 
another ; until, presently, meeting in a waving veil of fire, 
they hid— save when the wind blew them aside— all the upper 
part of the house from their eyes. 

A great fire in the night, the savage, uncontrollable revolt 
of man's tamed servant— is at all times a terrible sight. Nor 
on this occasion was it only' the horror of the flames, roaring 
and crackling and pouring forth a milliMi of sparks, which 
chained their eyes. For as these rose, they shed an intense 
light, not onlv on the heights of Bedcliffe, visible above the 
east side of the Square, and on the stately tower which rose 



^ 



318 



CHIPPINGE 



from tbem, but od the mnltitnde below ; on the hnrryine 
formu that, monkcy-Uke, played before the flamei and leemed 
to feed them, and on a still stranger (if ht, the expanse of up- 
turned faces that, in the rear of the active rioters, extended to 
the farthest limit of the Square. 

For it was the quiescence, it was the inertness of the gazing 
crowd which most ap' "led the spectators at the window. To 
■ee that great hons./ uum and to see no man stretch forth a 
hand to quench it, this terrified. 

" Oh, but it is frightful 1 It is horrible 1 " Mary exclai.. ad . 

" I should like to knock their heads together 1 " Mies 
Sibson cried sternly. " What are the soldiers doing ? What is 
any one doing ? " 

" They have hounded on the dogs," Lady Sybil said slowly 
— she aloue seemed to view the sight with a dupoasionate 



That is aU." 



eye. 



" and they are biting instead of buking | 

" Dogs ? " Mias Sibson echoed. 

" Ay, the dogs of Reform 1 " Lady Sybil renlied cynically. 
" Brougham's dogs ! Grey's dogs 1 Russell's dugs 1 I could 
wish Sir Robert were bete, it would so please him to see bis 
words fulfilled 1 " And then, as in surprise at the thing she 
had uttered, " I wonder when I wished to please him before I " 

" Oh, but it is frightful 1 " Mary repeated, unable to remove 
her eyes from the flames. 

It was frightful ; even while they were all sane peo^ in 
the room, and, whatever their fears, restrained them. What 
then was it a moment later, when the woman of the honse 
burst in upon them, with a maid in wild hysterics clinging to 
her, and another on the threshold screaming " Fire I Fire I '* 

" It's all on fire at the back t " the woman panted. " It's 
on fire, it's all on fire, my lady, at the back I " 

" It's all— what ? " Miss Sibeon rejoined, in a tone which 
had been known to quell the jpertest of seventeen-yearK)ld 
rebels. " It is what, woman ? On fire at the back ? And it 
it is, is that a groond for forgetting your manner ? Where is 
your deportment ? Fire, indeed I Are yon aware whose room 
this is ? For shame 1 And yno, silly," she cont.nned, ad- 
dressing herself to the maid, le silent, and go outside, as 
becomes yon." 

But the maid, though she retreated to the door, continued 
to scream, and the woman of the honse to wring hsr hands. 



FIRE I 



J»9 



« Yon had better go and gee what it i«," Lady StWI laid, 
turning to the Bchoolmistrcu. For, strange to nj, she who a 
few hours before had groaned if a coal fellon the hearth, and 
oomphdned if her boolc slid from the couch, was now quite 
calm. 

" They are afraid of their own shadows," Miss Sibson cried 
contemptuously. " It is the reflection they have seen." But 
she went. And as it was but a step to a window overlooking 
the rear, Marv went with her. 

Thev looked. And fur a moment something like panic 
seized thorn. The back of the house was not immediately upon 
the quay, but through an opening in the warehouses which 
fringed the latter it commanded a view of the water and the 
masU, und of the sloping ground which rose to College Oreen. 
And high above, dyemg the Floating Basin crimson, the Palace 
showed in a glow of fire ; fire which seemed to be on the point 
of attacking the Cathedral, of which every pinnacle and but- 
tress, with every chimney of the old houses clustered about it, 
stood out in the hot glare. It was clear that the building had 
been burning for some time, for the roar of the flames could 
be heard, and almost the hiss of the water as innumerable 
sparks floated down to it. 

Horror-struck, Mary grasped her companion's tu-m. And 
" Good heavens I " Miss Sibson muttered. *' The whole city 
will be burned I " 

" And we are between the two flres," Mary fallered. An 
involuntary shudder might be pardoned her. 

" Ay, but far enough from them t " the schoolmistress 
answered, recovering herself. " On this side, the water makes 
us safe." 

"And on the other?" 

" La, my dear," Miss Sibson replied confidently. " The 
folks ore not goin^ to bum their own houses. They are angry 
with the Corporation. They hold them all one with Wetherell. 
And for the Bishop, they've so abused hibt the last six months 
that he dare not show his wig in the streets, and it's no wonder 
the poor ignorants think him fair game. For ns, we're just 
ordinary folk, and they'll no more harm us than fly. But we 
must go back to your mother." 

They went back, and wisely Miss 8ibson made no mystery 
of the trulb ; repeating, however, those arguments against 
giving way to alarm which she had used to Morv. 



3J0 



CHIPPINGE 



"The poor dear Kcntlcman hat loct hll houie," iho 
ooDclDdod pioulr, "Bat wo thonld be thankful he hu 
another." 

Lad; Sybil took the novi vith calmncM i her cye«, indeed, 
leemed brighter, as if iho enjoyed the excitement, Bnt the 
frightened woman at the door refnied to be comforted, and 
nnderlying the courage of the two who stood by Lady 8ybil'« 
conoh WM a Mcrct nneaainen, which eveijr cheer of the crowd 
below the windows, every "huzza" which rote from the 
rcvellen, every wild rush from one putt of the Sqna to 
another tended to strengthen. In her heart Miss Sibson owned 
that in all her experience she had known nothing like this ; 
no disorder so flagrant, so unbridled, so Orri'iff. She could 
carry her mind back to the days when the cheek of Engknd 
had paled at the Masiacrei of September in Paris. The deeds 
of '98 in Ireland, she had read morning by morning in the 
journals. The Three Days of July, with their street flghting, 
were fresh in all men'- minds — it was impoMible to ignore 
their bearing on the present conflagration. And if here was 
not the drwn of FAVolution, if here were not signs of the 
crash of thir.E;' ppearsnoes deceived her. Dut she was not 
to be dismay:! She believed that even in revolutions a com- 
fortable courage, sound sense, and a good appetite went far. 
And " I'd like to hear John Thomas Gaisford talk to me of 
guillotines 1 " she thought. " I'd make his ears bum I " 

Meanwhile, Mary was thinking that, whatever the emer- 

fency, her mother was too ill to bo moved. Miss Siheon might 
e right, the danger might be remote. But it was barelv 
midnight ; and long hours of suspense must be lived through 
before morning came. Meanwhile there were only women in 
the house, and, bravely as the girl controlled herself, a cry 
more reckless than usual, an outburst of cheering more savage, 
a rush below the windows, drove the blood to her heart And 
presently, while she gazed with shrinking eyes on the crowd, 
now blooi-red in the glow of the burning timbers, now lost 
for a moment in darkness, a groan broke from it, and she 
8.'\w pale flames appear at the windows of the house next the 
Mansion House. They shot np rapidly, licking the front of 
the building. 

Miss Sibson saw them at the same moment, and "The 
villains 1 " she exclaimed. " God grant it be an accident I " 
Mary's lips moved, but no sound came from them. 



FIRE I 



33> 



Ladr Sjbil laughed her ihrill laugh. " The oun are biting 
bravelT 1 " the laid. " What will Bristol wr to this P " 

" Show them that they have gone too for I " Mia Sibion 
•niwered itontly. " The aoldien will act now, and will put 
them in their placei, ai they did in Wilttbire in the winter I 
And high time too I " 

But though they watched in tenie anxiety for the first sign 
of action on the part of the troops, for the first movement of 
the authorities, tney gazed in vain. The Uiiscrcants, who fed 
the flames and spread them, were few t and iu the Sunarc were 
thouaanda who hod property to lose, and friends and interests 
in jeopardy. If a tithe only of those who looked on, quiescent 
and despairing, had raised their hands, they could have beaten 
the rabble from the place. Bat no man moved. The fear of 
coming tronble, which had been long in the air, paralysed even 
the ooarogeous, while the ignorant and the timid believed that 
they saw a revolution in progress, and that henceforth the mob 
wonld rule — and woe betide the man who set himself against 
it I As it had been in Paris, so it would be here. And so the 
flames spread, before the eyes of the terrified women at the 
window, before the eyes of the inert multitude, from the house 
first attacked to its neighbour, and from that to the next and 
the next. Until the noise of the conflagration, the crash of 
sinking walls, the crackling of beams were as the roar of 
falling waters, and the Sqnare in that hideons red light, which 
every moment deepened, resembled an inferno, in which the 
devils of hell played pranks, and wherein, most terrible sight 
of all, thousanda who in ordinary times deemed the salvation 
of property the first of duties, stood with seated eyes, passive 
and cowed. 

It was such a scene — and they were only women, and alone 
in the house — as the mind cannot imagine and the eye views 
but once in a generation, nor ever forgeta. In quiet Clifton, 
and on St. Michael's Hill, children were snatched from their 
midnight slnmbers and borne into the open, that they might 
see the city stretched below them in a pit of flame, with the 
over-arching fog confining and reflecting the glare. Dundry 
Tower, five miles from the scene, shone a red portent visible 
for leagues ; and in Chepstow and South Monmouth, beyond 
the wide estuary of the Severn, the light was such that men 
could see to read. From all the distant Mcndips, and from the 
Forest of Dean, miners and charcoalrbnmers gazed southward 



33» 



CHIPPINGE 



with scored faces, aud told one another that the revelation 
was began ; while Lansdowne Chase sent riders galloping np 
the London Boad with the news that all the West was np. 
Long before dawn on the Monday horsemen and yellow chaises 
were carrying the news through the night to Gloncester, to 
Southampton, to Salisbnry, to Exeter, to every place where 
scanty companies of foot lay, or yeomanry had their head- 
quarters. And where these passed, alarming the sleeping inns 
and posthouses, panic sprang np npon their heels, and the 
travellers on the down night-coaches marvelled at the talcs 
which met them with the daylight. 

If the sight viewed from a distance was so terrible as to 
appal a whole conntryside, if, on those who gazed at it from 
vantage spots of safety, and did not guess at the dreadful 
details, it left an impression of terror never to be effaced, what 
was it to the three women who, in the Square itself, watched 
the onward march of the flames towards them, were blinded 
by the glare, choked by the smoke, deafened by the roar ? 
Whom distance saved from no feature of the scene played 
nnder their windows : w^o could shun neither the savage cries 
of the drunken rabble, dancing before the doomed hooses, nor 
the sight, scarce les& amazing, of the insensibility which 
watch^ the march of the flames and stretched forth not a 
finger to stay them I Who, chained by Lady Sybil's weakness 
to the place where they stood, saw house after nouse go up in 
flames, until all the side of the Square adjoining their own wag 
a wall of fire ; and who then were left to guess the progress, 
swift or slow, which the element wag making towaitb them I 
For whom the copper-haed fog above them must have seemed, 
indeed, the roof of a furnace, from which escape grew moment 
by moment less likely ? 






CHAPTER XXXIV 



HOI7B8 OF DABKNES3 



The women of the house had fled long before, taking Lady 
Sybil's maid with them. And dreadful as was the situation of 
those who remained, appalling as were the fears of two of 
them, they were able to control themselves j the better because 
they knew that they had no aid but their own to look to, and 
that their companion was helpless. Fortunately Lady Sybil, 
who had watched the earlier phases with the detachment which 
u one of the marks of extreme weakness, had at a certain 
pomt turned faint, and demanned to be removed from the 
window. She was ignorant, theibfoie, of the approach of the 
flames and of the imminence of the peril. She bad even, in 
spite of the uproar, dozed off, after a few minutes of trying 
irritation, into an uneasy sleep. 

Mary and Miss Sihson were thus left free. Bnt for what ? 
Compelled to gaze in suspense on the progress of the flames, 
driven at times to fancy that they could feel the heat of the 
fire, assailed more than once by gusts of fear, as one or the 
other imagined that they were abeady out off, they could not 
have held their ground but for their unselfishness— but for 
their possession of those qualities of love and heroism which 
raise women to the height of occasion, and nerve them to 
a pitch of endurance of which men are rarely capable. In the 
schoolmistress, with her powdered nose and her portly figure, 
and her dull past of samplers and backboards and Mrs. 
Ghapone, there dwelt as sturdy a spirit as in any of the Bristol 
shipmasters from whom she sprang. She might be fond of a 
sweetbread, and a glass of port might not come amiss to her. 
Bnt the heart in her was stout and large, and she had as soon 
dreamed of forsaking her forlorn companions as those bluff 
■ailormen would have dreamed of stnking their flag to a 
codfish Don, or to a shipload of mutinous slaves. 
333 



1 



334 CHIPPINGE 

And Mar, ? Perchance the gendest and the mildest are 
also the bravest, when the stress is real. Or perhaps those 
who have never known a mother's love cling to the veriest 
shred and tatter of it, if it faU in their way. Or perhaps— but 
why try to explain that which all history has proved a hundred 
times ovei^that love caste ont fear. Ma^ quailpd, deafened 
by the thunder of the fire, with the walls of the room turning 
blood-red round her, and the smoke beginning to drift before 
the window. But she stood ; and only once, assailed by evCTy 
form of fear, did her courage fail her, or smk below the 
stronger nerve of the elder woman. 

That was when Miss Sibson, after watching that latest ana 
most pregnant sign, the eddying of smoke past the window, 

"^ " I'm going next door," she cried, in Mary's ear. "There 
are papers I niust save ; they are all I have for my old age. 
The rest may go, but I can't see them bom when five mmntes 
may save them." , ., ^, . „ t • j 

But Mary clung to her desperately. "Oh I" she cned, 
"don't leave me!" ' , ^„ , . „ 

Miss Sibson patted her shoulder. " I shall come back, 
she said. " I shall come back, my dear. And then we must 
move your mother^ into the Square if no better can be. Do 
you come down and let me in when I knock three times. 

Lady Sybil was still dozing, with a woollen wrap about her 
head to deaden the noise ; and giving way to the cooltr bram 
Mary went down with the schoohnistress. In the haU the roor 
of the fire was less, for the only window was shuttered. But 
the raucous voices of the mob, moving to and fro outoide, were 
more clearly h^d. .v v ■ n,. 

Miss Sibson remained undaunted. " Put up the cham the 
moment I am outoide," she said. . v i. 

" But are you not afraid ? " Mary cried, holdmg her back. 

"Of those scamps?" Miss Sibson replied truculently. 
"They had better not touch me 1" ,., . 

And she turned the key and slipped out. Nor did she 

a ait the step until Mary had put up the chain and re-locked 
ledoor. . j • lu 

Mary waited— oh, many, many nunutes it seemed— in tne 
gloom of the hall, pierced here and there by a lurid ray ; with 
half her mind on her mother upstairs, and the other half on 
the ribald laughter, the drunken oaths and threats and onrses 



HOURS OF DARKNESS 



335 



which penetrated from the Square. It was plain that Miss 
Siheon bad not gone too soon, for twice or thrice the door was 
Btrnok by some heavy instrument, and harsh voices called on 
the inmates to open if they did not wish to be burned. Un- 
certain how the fire advanced, Mary received these warnings 
with a sick heart. But she held her ground, until, oh, joy I 
she heard voices raised in altercation, and among them the 
schoolmistress's. A hand knocked thrice, she turned the key 
and let down the chain. The door opened upon her, and on 
the steps, with her hand on a man's shoulder, appeared Miss 
Sibson. Behind her and her captive, between them and that 
backgrouid of flame and confusion, stood a group of four or 
five men— dock labonreis, in tarpaulins and frocks, who langhed 
, tipsily. 

" This lad will help to carry your mother ont," Miss Sibson 

said, with the utmost coolness. "Come, my lad, and no 

nonsense I You don't want to bum a sick lady in her bed I " 

"No, I don't, missis," the man grumbled, sheepishly. 

"But I'm none here for that I I'm none here for that. 

and " 

"Tou'll do it, all the same," the schoolmistress replied. 
" And I want one more. Here, yoa," she continued, addressing 
a grinning hobbledehoy in a sealskin cap. "I know your 
face, and you'll want some one to speak for yon at the Assizes. 
Come in, you two. and the rest must wait until the lady's 
carried out I " 

And thereon, with that strange mixture of humanity and 
noreasomng fury of which the night left many examples, the 
men complied. The two whom she had chosen entered, the 
others sniBfered her to shut the door in their faces. Only, 
" You'll be quick ! " one bawled after her. " She's afire next 
door I " 

That was the warning that went with them upstairs, and it 
nerved them for the task before them. Over that task it were 
well to draw a veil.. The poor sick woman, roused anew and 
abruptly to a sense of her surroucdings, to the flickering hghts, 
the smell of smoke, the strange faces, to all the horrors of that 
scene rarely equalled in our modem England, shrieked aloud. 
The courage which had before upheld her deserted her. She 
refused to be moved, refused to believe that they were there 
to save her ; she failed even to recognize her daughter, she 
resisted their efforts, and whatever Mary could say or do, she 



33* 



CHIPPINGE 



added to the peril of the moment all the miflery which frantic 
terror and nnavailiiig shrieki could add. They did not know, 
while they reasoued with her, and tried to lift her, and strove 
to cloak her agalait the enter air, the minnte at which the home 
mieht be entered ; nor even that it was not already entered, 
already in some part on fire. The girl, though her hands were 
steady, thongh she never wavered, though she persisted, wm 
white as paper. And even Misa Sibson was ahnost unnerved, 
when nature oame to their aid, and with a last frantic protest, a 
last attempt to thmst them from her, the poorwoman swooned ; 
and the men who had looked on, as unhappy as thore engaged, 
lifted the conch and bore her down the stairs. Odd are the 
windings of chance and fate. These men, in whom every good 
instinct was awakened by the sight before them, might had the 
schoolmistress's eye alighted on others, have plundered on witu 
their fellows ; and with the more luckless of those fellows have 
stood on the scaffold a month later 1 

Still, time had been lost, and perforce the men descended 
slowly, so that as they reached the hall the door gave way, and 
admitted a doien rascals, who tumbled over one another in their 
greed. The moment was critical, the inrush of homd sounds 
and sights apptOUng. But Mary rose to the occasion. With a 
courage which from this time remained with her to the end, she 
put tierself forward. .,,,-,, n. • -i, 

" Will you let us pass out ? " she said. " My mother is lU. 
Yon do not wish to harm her ? " ., , ,^ . vi 

Now Lady Sybil had made Mary put off the Quaker-like 
costume in which she had wished to nurse her, and she had had 
no time to cover the light muslin dress she wore. The men 
saw before them a beautiful creature, white-robed, bare-headed, 
bare-armed— even the schoolmistress had not snatched up so 
much as a cloak— a Una with sweet shining eyes, before whom 
they fell aside abashed. . , . ^., ..mi,. 

"Lord love yon, miss!" one cned heartily. "Take her 
out I And God bless yon 1 " while the others grinned fatuously. 

So down the stejB and into the turmoil of the seething 
Square, walled on two sides by fire, and crowded with a drunken, 
frenzied rabble— for all decent onlookers had fled, awakeat 
last to the result of their quiescence— the strange procession 
moved, the giri going first. Tipsy groups, singing and dancing 
delirious jigs to the music of faUing walls, pillagers hurrying m 
rathlea tote from house to house, or quarrelling over their 



HOURS OF DARKNESS 337 

spoils hoo^^eholders striving to save a remnant of their cooda 
from dwellings past saving-all made way for iL Men who 
^1^^ "V^^" v^*'' ''"'^dishing their arms and shouting 
^f^ 'S'""°'' J^'^S .'onched on the shonlder by otherf 
^hl^' ^^ save place with months agape. Even hoys, whom 
the madness of tfiat night made worse than men, an/ unsexS 
women, shrank at sight of it. and were silent-nay, followed 
r,.. ".''""eo •«»°?go "le Blender white figure, tti shining 
eyes, the pure sweet face. "^i"o 

In the worst horrors of the French Eevolntion it is said that 
t^ llT°Vf,^ '^""S*''*'' "^y^"^ "»« '>»°'l' ^hich were lifted 
snnwmdmgs less bloody, but almost as appalling, the wildest 
mother """ °" ^"' ^°' ""^ daughter and the 

Led bv instinct rather than by calculation, Mary did not 
panse, or look aside, but moved onward, until she reached the 
middle of the Square ; untQ some sixty or seventy yards divided 
her charge from the nearest of the burning houses. The heat 
iras less scorchmg here, the crowd less compact. A fixed seat 
afforded shelter on one side, and by it she signed to the bearers 
to set the conch down. The statue stood not far away on the 
other side, and secured them against the ugly rushes which 
were caused from time to time by the fall of a roof or a rain 
of sparks. 

Mary gazed round her in stupor. The whole of the north 
side of the great Square, and a half of the west side— full tliirty 
lofty houses— were in flamis, or were sinking in red-hot ruin. 
Ibe long wall of fire, the canopy of glowing smoke, the cease- 
lew roar of the element, the random movements of the forms 
wnich, prgmy-like, played between her and the conflagration 
the doom which threatened the whole city, held her awestruck 
spell-bound, fascinated. ' 

But even the feelings which she experienced, confronted 
by that sight, were exceeded by the emotions of one who had 
seen her advance ; of one who, at first with horror, then as he 
recognised her, with incredulity, had watched the white figure 
wUich threaded its way through this rout of eatyr- this orgy of 
recklessness. She had not succeeded in wresting her eyes from 
tfte spectacle before a hand fell on her arm, and the last voice 
she expected to hear called her by name. 

" Mary I " Sir Robert cried. "Mnryl My God! What 



338 



CHIPPINGE 



it 



arc yon doing here ? " For. token np with Btming at her, he 
had Been neither who accompanied her nor what they Iwre. 

A aob of reUef and joy broke from her as she flung herself 
into his arms and clung to him. " Oh " »he cned " Oh 1 
She could say no more at that moment. But the joy of it I 
To have at last a man to turn to, a man to lean upon, a man 

*" And'^stiU he conld not grasp the position. And "My 
Ood I " he repeated in wonder. " What, child, what are you 

^""sut Wore she could answer him his eyes wnk to the level 
of the conch, which the figures about it jhaded from the 
scorching light. And he started, and stepped, back. In'lo^er 
TOioe and a quavering tone he called upon his Maker. He was 

'^'^'"mi^tobriSrouCBhesobbed. "We had to bring 
heront. The house is on fire. Bee!" 

She pointed to the house beside Miss Sibson's, from the 
UDoer windows of which smoke was beginmng to curl and eddy. 
Mot were pouring from the door below, carrying their booty 
and jostling others who sought to enter. . 

"Yon &ve been here all day ? " he asked, passing his hand 
over his brow. 

" Yes." 

« All day ? AU day ? " he repeated. 

He c(;vered his eyes with his hand, while Mary, recalled by 
a touch from Miss 8it«on, knelt be^'df her mother, of eel her 
nnlse to mb her hands, to make sure that hfe still hneercd in 
the^ianiZte f«me. He had not asked, he did not asWho it 
,iov«ThomWs daughter hung with so tender aBoho'tjide 
H^did not even look at the cloaked figure Bnt the side ong 
glance which at once sought and shunned, the q?'ve™f »f h^» 
month, which hU shaking fingers did no avail to bide, the 
agitation which minerved a frame erect but feeble aU betrayed 
to knowledge. And what must have been his thoughts, how 
™iXt hfs reflections as he <»n«dered that there there 
OTveloped in those shapeless wraps, there lay the ^ride whom he 
had widded with hopes so hi>rh a Korc of years before I The 
mother of his child, tlie wife whom he had last seen m the pnde 
of her beauty, the woman from whom he had been parted for 
sixteen years, and who through all those sixteen yeara had 



HOURS OF DARKNESS 339 

never been abeent from his thooffhta for an Lour, nor ever been 
^Snt "^ 'hem but an abiding, clinging, embittering memory— 

What wonder, if the scene about them rolled away and he 
saw her again in the stately gardens at Stapylton, walking. 
!? v°?l *^?"'g. fl»f"ng, the myest of the gay, the lightest of 
the butterflies, the admired of all ? " Or if tls heart M at 
the rcmembranoe— at that remembranoe and many another? 
or again, what wonder if his mind went back to long hours of 
brooding m his sombre Ubraty, hours given up to the reheanml 
of grave remonstrances, vain reproofs, bitter complaints, all 
destined to meet with defiance ? And if at this picture of the 
urevooable past his head sank lower, his hands trembled more 
semlely, his breast heaved ? 

.. H^ "iJ *''* abnormal things wrought in Bristol that nieht, of 
aU the strangely begotten brood of riot and fire, and Reform, 
none were stranger than thU meeting, if meeting that could bo 
caUed where one was ignorant of the other's presence, and he 
wouM not look upon her face. For he wonU not, perhaps he 
dared not. He stood with bent head, pondering and absorbed, 
nntu an nprnsh of sparks, more fiery than usual, and the 
movement of the crowd to avoid them, awoke him from hu 
thonghte. Then hu eyes fell on Mary's uncovered head and 
neck, and he took the cloak from his own shouldera and put it 
on her, wah a touch as if he blessed her. She was knceliuK 
beside the couch at the moment, her head bent to her mother'^ 
her hair mingUng with her mother's. But he contrived to clore 
his eyes and would not see his wife's face. 

After that he moved to the farther side of the couch, where 
some sneaking hobbledehoys showed a disposition to break in 
upon them. And old aa he was, and shaken and weary, he 
stood sentry there, a gaunt stooping figure, for long honre, 
nntu the prayed-for day began to break above Eedchffe and to 
discover the grim rehes of the night's work. 



CHAPTER XXXV 

THE MOENINO OP MOSDAV 

It has been said that midnight of that Sunday saw the alarm 
BDeedine along every road by which the forces of order oonld 
hC to^b^ re.Lited ; nevertheless in Bristol itself nothing was 
doSe to stay the work of havoc. Tme, a change ^ jome 
over the feeling in the city i to acqmescenoe had sueoeeded the 
most Uvely alam.and to ap^oval. rage and bonndleBS mdmia- 
tion. But the hiidfnl of officials who thronghont the dayTiad 
striven, honestly if not very ably, to restore ordf. '«' « ^f" 
hansted : and the public without cohesion or leadera were in 
no condition to make head against the noters. So grea^ 
ind^, was the confusion that a troop of Gloucestershire 
Yeomn^ which rode in after nightfall received neither order. 
noVbfflete; and being poorly I^, withdrew withm the hour. 
TWs, with a tumult at'fiath, where the quarters of the Yeomanry 
were beset by a mob of Eefonners, who would not let them go 
to the rescue, completed the isolation of the city. 

One man only.^n the midst of that welter, tad power to 
intervene with effect. And he could "ot be found. From 
Queen's Square to Leigh's Bazaar, where 'lie T^ird Dragons 
stood inactive by their horses ; from Leigh's to the Recruiting 
Office on CoUege Green, where a couple of non-commissioned 
officers stood inactive by their deska, from the Eocruitmg 
Office to hi? lodgings in Unity Street, men, pantmg and pro- 
testing, in terror for their property, hurned in vam nightmare 
pursuit of that man. For to tW persons it seemed impossibte 
that in face of the damage a ready done, of thirty houses in 
flames, of a mob which had broken all bounds, of a city disturbed 
to its entrails, he could still refuse to act. , ^ . . 

But to go to Unity Street was one thing, and to gam speech 
with Brereton was another. He had gone to bed. He wa. 
asleep. He was not well. He was worn out and was resting. 
340 



THE MORNING OF MONDAY 34, 

S^illflff"' "•"K,,""'/'*'.''' "'o fi" '» their ean and ruin 
iterng thorn m ho face, heara these incredible things, and 
went away, Bearing profanely. Nor did any one gain swech 

Irthn/v' "",."' '^^ T,"" ^°''" '-o™ welfadvan^d Then 
Arthur Vanghan, unable to abide by the vow ho had taken 

innn*? "T^T •''"J- ""^'='^' ^' too f"rions at tha door, and 
found a knot of gentlemen clamouring for admission. 

»,n„™^r° •'^.P?rt«d,f«"n Sir Robert Vermnyden some 
honis ear her, behevmg that, bad as things were, he mSht 

fnd hn t^. I, "^ "° T r"'°S t" ~* "i'lioat the soldiery ; 
and ho was here in the last resort, determined to comibei 
Colonel Brereton to move, if it were by main fowe Fot 
wr.§^3 tad the kw-koening instincta of an Engl& ;°d 
his blood boUed at the sigtts he had seen in the str^tsTt tiie 
wanton destruction of property, at the jeopardy ofH^ at thi 
women made homeless, at the men made^n^?s. No? wm 
rt quite out of hi, thoughts that if anythi^ cou^d harm the 
cause of Eeform it was these deeds done in its name the» 

KSiSftr ''" '^"^^ "^^ -"' -^^'^^ ^^ --" 

fiXf rf^ 'ranghng at the door, then he pnsh'id his wv 

did nM ti-^" T""*"??*^ °f "•« ''O'"'"' of 'be touse. He 
did not behove, he could not believe, the excuse giv7n-that 
Brereton was in bed. Nero, fiddhng while Borne burned 
seemed nought beside that I Hig s^prise w^^t "hm 
Xn^iw'^'^S-'?"" ^~^' ^' ""w beforrhiS^nly the 
.^dZ>?M ?°^.' '^bo, standing on the hearthrug, met his 
indignant look with one of forced and sickly amusement. 

Good Heavens I " Vanghan cried, staring at him. " What 
arc you doing here? Where's the Chief ? " 

Flixton shrugged his shoulders. " There," he said irritablr 

An/i?'°. r k'''!""'^ "'^ ' ^»° *«^«. ^ be won't, he won't I 
And It s hig business, not mine I " ■ "o wuu 1 1 

•she?'"'"""^^*'""^"" ^ai^ban retorted. "Where 

" H^s\wp "''^ his thumb in the direction of an inner door. 

Hog there, he said. He's there, safe enough I For the 

Kst It la easy to find fault I Very easy for you, my lad I 

You're no longer in the service." ^ 

"There are a good many wiU leave the sei-vice for this 1 » 



34» 



CHIPPINGE 



u 



Yaughsn rejoined ; and he uw that the (hot told. Flixton < 
face fell, he opened his month to reply. But diidaining to 
liiten to ezonace, of which the ipeaker'e manner betrayed the 
ihallowneM, Vansban opened the bedroom door and paised In. 
To hii bonndleii astonishment Brereton wu redly ia bod, 
thoogh he had a light beside him. Asleep he raobably wu 
not, Tor he rote at once to a sitting poetore and, with dishevelled 
hair, confronted the intmder, hii looln betraying both an^ 
and discomfiture. His sword and an nndress cap, bine with 
a silver band, lay beside the candle on the table, and Vanghan 
saw that though ia his shirt- leeves he was not otherwise 
nndrcsscd. 

" Mr. Vaughan I " he cried, " What, if yon please, doea this 
mean?" 

" That is what I am here to ask yon! " Vaughan answered, 
his face flushed with indignation. He was too angry to pick 
his words. "Are yon, can you bo aware, sir, what is done 
while yon sleep ? " , , . .• 

"ffleep?" Brereton rejoined, with a sombre gleam in his 
eyes. " Keep, man 7 Ood knows it is the last thing I do 1 ' 
He clapped his hand to his brow and for a moment remained 
silent, holding it there. Then, " Sleep has been a stranger to 
me these three nights 1 " he said. . 

" Then what do yon do here ? " Vanghan answered, in 
astonishment. He lodked ronnd the room as if he might find 
his answer there. , ,, 

" Ah t " Brereton rejoined, with a look halt snsjBcions, half- 
cunning. "That is another matter. Bnt never mind 1 Never 
mind I I know what I am doing." 

"Know " 

« Yes, well I " the soldier replied, bringing his feet to the 
floor, but continuing to keep his seat on the bed. " Very well, 
sir, I assure yon." _ „ , , ». . « 

Vanghan looked aghast at him. " Bnt, Colonel Brereton, 
ho rejoined, "do yon consider that you are the only person in 
this city able to act ? That withoat you nothing can be done 
and nothing can be ventured ? " , , , „ . 

" That," Brereton returned, with the same shrewd look, is 
jnst what I do consider 1 Without me they cannot act I They 
cannot venture. And I— go to bed I " , , , ■ 

He chuckled at it, as at a jest ; and Vanghan, checked bj 
the oddity of his manner, and with a growing suspicion in his 



THE MORNING OF MONDAY 343 

miiid, know not nlist to think. At lait, " I fear that yea will 
not be aUe to go to bed, Colonel Brereton," ho nid gravely, 
" when the moment comci to face the conscqnencei." 

" The conse(iacncc« ? " 

" Yon cannot think that a city auch lu thia can be deatroyed. 
and no one bo called to aoconut ? " 

" Bat the civil power " 

" la impotent 1 ' Vanghan anawored, with retnrning indig- 
nation, " m the face of the diaorder now prevailing I I warn 
yon I A little more delay, a little more licenae, let the pcople'a 
paaaiona be fanned by farther impunity, and nothing, nothing, 
I warn yon. Colonel Brereton," he continued with emphaaia, 
" can save the major part of Bristol from deatruction 1 " 

Brereton roae to hia feet, an added wildnesa in hia aapect. 
" Good God 1 " he exclaimed. " You don't mean it 1 Do yoa 
really mean it, Vaughan ? But— but what can I do ? " He 
Bank down on the bed again, and stared at hia comnanion. 
"Eh? What can I do? Nothing!" *^ 

" Everything ! " 

He sprang to hia feet. " Everything I Yon aay eveij- 
thing ? " he cried, and his tone roee, shrill and excited. " But 
you don't know I" he continned, lowering hia voice as qnicklr 
aa he had raised it and laying hia hand on Vaugban'a aleeve^ 
« you don't know I Yon don't know 1 But I know I 1 was 
set in command here on pnrpoie. If I acted they counted on 
patting the blame on me. And if I didn't act— they wonld 
still put the blame on me." 

Hia cunning look shocked Vanghan. " But even M, air," 
he answered, " you can do yonr duty." 

"My duty?" Brereton repeated, raising hia voice again. 
"And do yon think it ia my duty to precipitate a useless 
struggle ? To begin a civil war ? To throw away the lives 
of my own men and cut down innocent folk ? To fill the 
streets with blood and slaughter ? And the end the same ? " 
"Ay, sir, I do," Vaughan answered sternly. "If by so 
doing a worse cakunity may be averted 1 And, for your men's 
lives, are they not soldiers ? For yonr own life, are yon not 
a soldier ? And will yon shun a soldier's duty ? " 

Brereton clapped hia hand to his brow, and, holding it 
there, paced the room in hia ahirt and breechea. 

" My God ! My God I " he cried, as he went. « I do not 
know what to do I But if — if it be as bad as yoa say " 



344 



CHIPPINGE 



" It is 01 bud, and wone I " 

"I roif^hl tiT once more," looking at Tanghan with a 
troubled, undecided ere, " what ihowing mj men might do ? 
What do you think ? '' 

Vanf^han tbouf;ht that if the other were once on the spot, 
if ho saw with liis own eyes the lawlessness of the mob, be 
might acf. And ho assented. 

"Shall I pass on the orJcr, tir," ho added, "while ton 
dress ? " 

"Yes, I tliink yon may. Yes, certainly. Tell tho officer 
commanding ta march his men to tho Square, and I'll meet 
him there." 

Vanghan waited for no more. He suspected that the 
burden of responsibility had proved too' heavy (or Brereton's 
mind. He suspected tliat the Colonel bad brooded upon his 
position between a Whig Oovemment and a Whig mob until 
the notion that he was seu^ there to be a scapegoat nad become 
a fixed idea ; and with it tho determination that he wonid not 
be forced into strong measures had become also a fixed idea. 

Such a man, if he was to be blamed, was to be pitied also. 
And Vanghan, even in the heat of his indignation, did pity 
him. Bnt he entertained no such feeling for the Honourable 
Bob, and in delivering the order to him he wasted no words. 
After Flixton had left the room, however, he remembered that 
he had noted a shade of indecision in the aidefs manner. And 
warned by it, he followed him. 

" I wul come with yon to Leigh's," he said. 

"Better come all the way," Flixton replied, with covert 
insolence. " We've half a dozen spare horses." 

The next moment he was sorty he had spoken. For, 
"Done with yon!" Yaughan cried. "There's nothing I'd 
like better 1" 

Flixton grunted. He had overreached himself. Bnt he 
could not withdraw the offer, and Yaughan went out with hun. 

Let no man think that the past is done with, though he 
sever it as he will. The life from which he has cut himself off 
in disgust has none the less cast the tendrils of custom about 
bis heart, which shoot and bud when he least expects it. 
Yaughan stood in the doorway of the stable while the men 
bridled. He viewed the long line of tossing heads, and the 
smoky lanthoms fixed to the stall-posts ; he sniffed the old 
fiuuUiar smell of " Stables." And hu full his heart leap to the 



THE MORNING OF MONDAY 



345 



part. A7, even m it leapt a few miDotci later, when lie rodo 
down Collogo Cri'cn, now in darlincM, now in glare, and hoord 
beaidc him ihe /..liiiliar clunk of spur and Boablmid, the rattle 
of liie briv. lo-chains, and tbe tramp of tbe ihod hoofs. Da tlio 
mens left, aa they descended the ilopo at a walk, the tall 
hon»t« stood up in bright light j below them on the right the 
Flout gleamed darkly ; above thein, the mist glowed red. 
Wild hurrahing and an indcsoribablo bobcl of sboutg, mingled 
with the luahing roar of the flames, rose from tbe S,iuare. 
When the troop rode into it with the fimt dawn, thoy taw 
that two whole aides— with the exception of a pair of houses- 
were burnt or burning. In addition a mon«t<'r wnrehoase 
was ou fire in the rear, a menace to every boilding to ■ivui'i\mrd 
of it. 

The Colonel, with Fliiton attending' him, fell in oa I'le 
flank, aa the troop entered the Sonare. But apparently -firoo 
h« pave no orders— he did not ghare the tingUng iiiilignatioii 
which Vaughan experienced as he viewed the scene. A low 
persons were still engaged in removing then: goods from houses 
on the sonth side ; but save for these, the decent and respect- 
able had long since fled the place, and left it a prey to all that 
wai most vUe and dangerous in the population of a rough 
seaport. The rabble, left to themselves, and constantly rc- 
crmted as the news flew abroad, had cast off the fear of 
reprisals, and believed that at last the city was their own. 

The troop had not ridden far into the open before Vaughan 
was shocked, as well as antonished, by the appearance of Sir 
Bobert Vermnyden, who came stumbling across the Square 
towards them. He was bareheaded — for in an encounter with 
a prowler who had approached too near he had lost his hat ; 
he was without his cloak, thongh the morning was cold. His 
face, too, unshorn and haggard, added to the tragedy of his 
appearance ; yet in a sense he was himself, and it wos not 
without success that he tried to steady his voice, as, unaware 
of Vaughan's presence, he accosted the nearest trooper. 

" Who is in command, my man ? " he asked. 

FlixtoD, who had recognised him, thrust his horse forward. 
"Good Heavens, Sir Bobert 1" bo crieil. "What are you 
doing here ? And in this state ? " 

"Never mind me," the baronet replied. "Arc yon in • 
command p " . 

Colonel Brereton had baited bis men. He came forward. 






346 



CHIPPINGE 



"No, Sir Eobert," he said. " I am. And veiy sorry to see 
you in this plight." 

"Take no heed of me, sir," Sir Eobert replied sternly. 
Through how many houn>, hours long as days, had he not 
watched for the soldieis' coming 1 " Take no heed of me, 
sir," he repeated. " Unless yon have orders to abandon the 
loyal people of Bristol to their fate — act I Act, sir 1 If yon 
have eyes, yon can see that the mob are beginning to fire the 
south side on which the shipping abuts. Let tmtt take file 
and you cannot save Bristol I 

Brereton looked in the direction indicated, but he did not 
answer. 

Flixton did. " We understand all that," he said, somewhat 
cavalierly. "We see all that. Sir Robert, believe me. Bnt 
the Colonel has to think of many things ; of more than the 
immediate moment. We are the only force in Bristol, 
and " 

"Apparently Bristol j is no better for youl" Sir Eobert 
replied — and this time with passion. 

So far Yanghan, a horsed length behind Brereton and his 
aide, heard what passed; bnt with half his mind. For his 
eyes, roving in the direction whence Sir Eobert had come, 
had discerned, amid a medley of goods and persons b-^^dled 
about the statue, in the middle of the Square, a sing! ^^^ore, 
slender, erect, in black and white, which appeared to be gazing 
towards him. At first he resisted as incredible the notion 
which besieged him— at sight of that figure. Bnt the longer 
he looked the more sure he became that it was, it was Mary t 
Hary, gazing towards him ont of that welter of miserable and 
shivering figures, as if she looked to him for help I 

Perhaps he should have asked Sir Bobert's We to go to 
her. Perhaps Colonel Brereton's to quit the troop, which he 
had volunteered to accompany. As a fact he gave no thought 
to either. He slipped from his saddle, flung the reus to the 
nearest man, and, crossing the roadway in three strides, he 
made towards her through the skulking groups who warily 
watched the dragoons, or hailed them tipsily, and in the name 
of Keform invited them to drink. 

And Mary, who had risen to her feet in alarm, and was 
gazing after her father, her only hope, her one proteution 
through the rJght, saw Yaughan coming, tall and stem, 
through the prowling night-birds about her, as if she had 



THE MORNING OF MONDAY 



347 



sem an angel I She laid not a vord, when he came near and 
she was Bore. Nor did he aaj more than " Mary 1 " Bnt he 
threw into that word so much of love, of joy, of relief, of 
forgirenesB — and of the appeal for forgirenesa — that it brought 
her to hia arms, it left her clinging to hia breast. AU hia 
coldness in Bond Street, his cmeity on the coach, her father's 
opposition, all were forgotten br her, oi if they had not been 1 

And for him, she might hare been the weakest of the 
weak, and fickle and changeable as the weather, she might have 
been all that she wos not — though he had yet to learn that and 
how she had carried herself that night — ^but he knew that in 
spite of all he loved her. She was still the one woman in the 
world for him I And she was in peril. But for that there is 
no knowing how long he might have held her. That thought, 
however, presently overcame all others, made him insensible 
even to the sweetness oit that embrace, ay, even found words 
for him. 

" How come yon here ? " he cried. " How come you here, 
Mary?" 

She freed herself and pointed to her mother. " I am with 
her," she said. " We had to bring her here. It was all we 
conld do." 

He lowered his ey^es and saw what she was guarding ; and 
he nnderstood something of the tragedy of that night. From 
the conch came a low continuous moaning which made the 
hair rise on his head. He looked at Mary. 

"She does not suffer," she said qmetly. "She does not 
know anything." 

" We mnst remove her I " he said. 

She looked at him, and from him to that part of the Square 
where the rioters wrought still at their fiendish work. And 
she shuddered. 

"Where can we oake her?" she answered. "They ore 
beginning to bum that side also." 

" Then we must remove them I " he answered sternly. 

" That's sense I " a heartv voice cried at his elbow. " And 
the first I've heard this night I " On which he became aware 
of Miss Sibson, or rather of o stont body swathed in queer 
wrappings, who spoke in the schoolmistress s tones, and thongh 
paje with fatigue continued to show a brave face to the mis- 
chief about her. " That's talking I " she continued. " Do 
that, and you'll do a man's work I " 



348 



CHIPPINGE 



y' 



" Will you have conrage if I leave yon ? " he asked. And 
Alien Maiy, bravely bnt with inward terror, answered "Yes," 
he told her in brief sentences— with big eyes on the move- 
ments m the Square— what conrae to take, if the rabble made 
a msh in that direction ; and what to do, if the troops charged 
too near them, and how, by lying down, to avoid danger if the 
crowd resorted to firearms— since untrained men filed high, 
ihen he touched Miss Sibson on the arm. "You'll not leave 
aer ? " he said. 

..rru'^"^ bless the man, no I" the schoolmistress repUed. 
Iho^h, for the matter of that, she's a* well able to take 
care of me as I of her I " 

Which was not quite true. Or why in after-days did Miss 
Hitaon, at many a coay whist^party and over many a glass of 
hot negus, tell of a particular box on the ear with which she 
routed a young rascal, more forward than civil ? Ay, aud 
ditate with boasting on the way his teeth had rattled, and tlie 
gibei with which his fellows had seen him dnven turn tfae 
field ? 

But, if Drt quite true, it satisBed V«ugb»n. He went 
from them in a cold heat, and finding Sir Bobert, still at 
words and abnost at blows with the ofBoera, was going to 
strike in, when another did so. Daylighl. was overcoming the 
glare of the fire, aud dispeUing the shadows which had lain 
the deeper and more confusing for that glare. Dawn laid the 
grey of reaUty upon the scene, showing all things in their true 
colours, the mins more ghastly, the pale licking flames more 
devilish. The fire, which had swept two sides of the Square, 
leaving onlv charred skeletons of houses, gaping with vacant 
sockets to the sky, was now attacking the third side, of which 
the two most westerly houses were in flames. It was this, and 
the knowledge of its meaning, that, before Vaughan conld 
interpose, flung at Colonel Brereton a man white with passion, 
and stuttering under the pressure of feelings too violent for 
utterance. 

" Do yon see ? Do you see ? " he cried brandishing his 
fist in Brereton's face— it was Cooke. " Yon traitor I If the 
fire catches the fourth house on that side, it'll get the ship- 
fling I The shipping, d'yon hear, you Radical ? Then the 
Lord knows what'll escape ? But thank Ood you'll hang 1 

You'll If it gets to the fourth house, I tell yon, it'll catch 

the rigging by the Great Crane I Are you going to move ? " 



THE MORNING OF MONDAY 



349 



Vaushan did not wait for Brereton'a ansner. " Y\'o must 
charge, Colonel Brereton ! " he cried, in a voice whioli bnret 
the bonds of discipline, and showed that he was determined 
th&t others shoald burst them also. " Colonel Brereton," he 
repeated firmly, setting his horse in motion, " wo must charge 
without a moment's delay 1 " 

"Waitl" Brereton answered hoarsely, "Wait! Let 

me " 

_ "We must charge I" Vanghan replied, his face set, his 
mind made up. And taming in his saddle he wared his band 
to the men. " Forward ! " he cried, raising his voice to its 
utmost. " Forward 1 Trot 1 Charge, men, and charge 
home I " 

He spurred his horse to the front, and the whole troop, 
some thirty strong, set in motion by the magic of his voice, 
followed him. Even Brereton, after a moment's hesitation, 
spurred his charger, and fell in a length behind him. The 
horses broke into a trot, then Into a canter. As they bore 
down along the south side npon the south-west comer, a loar 
of rage and alarm rose from the rioters collected there ; and 
scores and hundreds fled, screaming, and sought safety to 
right and left. 

Vanghan had time to turn to Brereton, and cry, " I beg 
vonr pardon, sir ; I could not help it ! " The next moment 
he and the leading troopers were npon the fleeing, dodging, 
ducking crowd ; were npon them and among them. Half a 
dozen swords gleamed high and fell, the horses did the rest. 
The rabble, taken by surprise, made no resistance. In a trice 
the dragoons were through the mob, and the roadway showed 
clear behind them, save where here and there a man rose 
slowly and limped away, leaving a track of blood at his heels. 

" Steady I Steady ! " 'Vanghan cried. " Halt, men I 
Halt I Eight about ! " and then, " Charge ! " 

He led the men back over the same ground, chasing from 
it such as bad dared to return, or to gather upon the skirts of 
the troop. Then ho led his men along the cast aide, clearing 
that also and driving tho rioters in a panic into the side 
streets. Resistance worthy of the name there was none, until, 
having led the troop back across the open Square and cleared 
that, too, of the sknikers, he came back again to tlie south- 
west corner. There the rabble, rallying from their surprise, 
had takf n up a position in the forecourts of the houses, where 



em^fmsFML-^ .«J 



3S« 



CHIPPINGE 



\ 



tboy were protected b; the lailings. Tbey met the toMiers 
with a Tolley of etoDcs, nnd half a dozen pistol-tbota. A hoiso 
fell, two or three of the m«n were hit ; for an initant there 
was confnuoD. Then Yauehan Bparred his hcnne into one 
of the forecourts, and, foUowed by half a down troopers, 
cleared it, and the next and the next ; on which, Tolnnteen 
who sprang up, as bj magic, at the first act of aotlnrity, 
entered the hooses, kQled one rioter, flnng out the mt, and 
cxtingnished the flames. Still the more determined of the 
rascals, seeing the smail number against tbem, chmg to the 
place and the forecourts ; and, driven from one conrt, re- 
treated to another, and to another, and, still protected by the 
railings, kept the troopers at bay with missiles. 

Vanghan, panting with his exertions, took in the position, 
and looSed ronnd for Brereton. 

" We must send for the Fourteenth, sir I " ho said. " We 
are not enough to do more than hold them in check." 

" There is nothing else for it now," Brereton replied, with 
a gloomy face and in sach a tone that the veir men shrank 
from lookinz at him ; understanding, the dullest of them, 
what his f^ngs mnst be, and how great bis shame, who, thna 
snpefseded, saw another successful in that which it had been 
his doty to attempt. 

And what were Vaoghan's feelings ? Ho dared not allow 
himself the luxury of a glance towards the middle of the 
Square. Much less — but for a different reason — had he the 
heart to meet Brereton's eyes. 

" I'-J not in uniform, sir," he said. " I can pass through 
the crowd. If you think fit, and will give mc the order, I'll 
fetch them, sir ? " 

Brereton nodded without a word, and Vanghan wheeled 
his horse to starl). As he podied it clear of the troop he 
passed Flizton. 

" That was capital I " the Honourable Bob cried heartily. 
" Capital 1" We'll handle 'em easily now, till you come 
back ! " 

Vaughan did not answer, nor did he look et Flixton ; his 
look would have conveyed too much. Instead, he put his 
horee into a trot along the east side of the Square, and, re- 
gardless of a dropping fire of stones, made for the opening 
beside the rnins of the Mansion House. At the last moment, 
he glanced back, to see Mary if it were possible. But he had 



•/T:Mw-^:n,it.w^sBs^m^m 



THE MORNING OF MONDAY 



351 



waited too long, he conld distingniah only confosed formi 
about the base of the itatne ; and he mnit look to himielf. 
His road to Kcynham lay throngh the lowest and most 
dangerons part of the city. 

But thou<;h the streets weni full of TOiig:h men, navigatan 
and seamen, whose faces were set towards the ^quoR, ud 
who eyed him suspiciously as he rode by them, noae made 
any attempt to stop him. And wlien he had crossed Bristd 
Bridge and had gained the more open oatskirti towards Totter- 
down, where ho could urge his horse to a gallop, the pale faces 
of men and women at door and window announced that it was 
not only the upper or the middle class which had taken fright, 
and longed for help and order. Throngh Brislington and np 
Dnriey Hill he ponnded ; and it must be confeaed that his 
heart was light. Whatever came of it, though they conrt- 
marshalled him, were that possible, though they tried him, be 
had done something, he had done right, and he had succeeded. 
Whatever the consequences, whatever the results to himself, he 
had dared ; and his daring, it might be, had saved a city I 
Of the charge, indeed, he thoaf^bt nothing, though she had 
seen it. It was nothing, for the danger had been of the 
slightest, the defence contemptible. But in setting discipline 
at defiance, in superseding the officer commanding the troops, 
in taking the whole responsibility upon his own shoulders — a 
responsibility which few would have dreamed of taking— there 
he bad dared, there he bad played the man, there he had risen 
to the occasion ! If he bad been a failure in the House, here, 
by good fortune, he had not been a failure. And she would 
know it. Ob, happy thought I And happy man, riding ont 
of Bristol with the mark and smoke and fog at his back, and 
the sunshine on his face I 

For the sun was above the horizon as with a foil heart he 
rode down the liill into Eeynsham, and heard the bngle sound 
" Boot and saddle I " and poured into Bympathei,'°o ears — and 
to an accompaniment of strong words — the tale of ihe night's 
doings. 

An hour later he rode in with die Fourteenth and heard 
the Blues welcomed with thanksgiving, in the very streets 
which bad stoned them from the city twenty-four hours 
before. By that time the officer in command of the main 
body of the Fourteenth at Glonoester had posted over, followed 



MM"^^ 'J blllHtfi MPgE^iq&f,- 



35» 



CHIPPINGE 



li^ anollier troop, and, seeing the state of things, had taken 
his own line and assumed, though junior to Colonel BrcretA, 
the command of the forces. 

After that the thing became a military evolntion. One 
honr, two honrs at most, and twenty charge* along the quays 
and tbrongh the streets snfficcd— at the coat of a dozen lives — 
to convince the most obstinate of the rabble of several things. 
Imprimis, that the reign of terror was not come. On the 
contrary, that law and order, and also Red Jndges, snrvived. 
That Beform did not spell fire anJ pillage, and that at these 
things even a Beforming Government conld not wink. In a 
word, by noon of that day, Monday, and many and many an 
honr before the mins had ceased to smoke, the bnbble which 
might have been easily bnnt before- was pricked. Order 
reigned in Bristol, patrols were everywhere, two thousand 
zcalouB constables guarded the streets. And though troops 
still continned to hasten to the scene by every road, though all 
England trembled with Warm, and distant Woolwich sent its 
guns, and Greenwich horsed them, and the Yeomanry of six 
connties mustered on Glifton Down, or were quartered in the 

n'lic bnildings, the thing was nonght. Arthur Vaughan 
pricked it in the early morning light when he cried 
" Charge I " in Queen's Square. 



CHAPTEE XXXVI 



FOBOiTEirssa 

Tm flnt wave of thankf olnea for crowning blessings or vital 
escapes has a softening quality asainat which the hearts of few 
are wholly proof. Old thingi, old hopes, old ties, old memorios 
petnm on ^at gentle flaod-tate to ey«i and mind. The barriers 
raised by time, the foiniws of anoient wrong are levelled with 
the pUin, and the generons beast cries " Non nobit I Not to 
ns only be the benefit I " 

Lady Lamdowne, vith somathing of this kind in her 
thonghts and pity in hs heart, wt eyeiog Miss Sibson in a 
silence which betrayed nothing of her feeiugB, and which the 
schoohnistress found irksome. UisB Sihaon could beard Sir 
Eobert at need ; but of the great of her own sex— and she 
knew Lady Lansdowne for a vor great lady indeed— her 
sturdy nature went a littie in awe. Had her ladyship encroached 
indeed, Min Sibson would have known how to put her in her 
idace. But a Lady Lansdowne perfectly polite and whol^ 
silent imposed on her. She mbbed her nose and was glaa 
when the visitor spoke. 

" Sir Robert has not seen her, then ? " 

Miss Sibson smoothed out the lap of her dress. "No, my 
lady, not since she was brought into the house. Indeed, I 
can't say that he saw her before, for he never looked at her." 

" Do you think that I could see her ? " 

The ichoohniBtreBs hesitated. " Well, my lady," she said, 
" I am afraid that she will hardly live through the day." 

" Then he must see her," Lady Laudowne replied quickly. 
And Miss Sibson observed with surprise that there were tears in 
the great lady's eyes. " He must see her. Is die conscious ? " 

"She's so-ao. Hiss Sibson answered, more at her ease. 
After aQ, ths great lady was human, it seemed. " She wanders 
and thinks that she is in France, my lady ; believes there's a 
353 2^ 



354 CHIFPINGE i 

nTolntion, and that they are oome to talfe her to priaon. 
Her mind harpa ountinniulj on thing! of tqtt kind — and not 
mnch wonder either I Bnt then again she's henelf. So that 
yon don't know from one minnte to anoUier whether die's 
sensible or not." 

"Poor thin^l" Lady Lansdowne mnrmnred. "Poor 
thing 1 " Her hn moved without sonnd. Presently, " Her 
daughter is with her ? " she asked. 

" She has scarcely left her for .<■ . innte since she was carried 
in," Hiss Sibaon answered. A"-* to her eyes, too, there rose 
something like a tear. " Onlf >r.th dilSonlty have I mode her 
take the most neoesaary rest 3nt if yonr ladyship plenaes, I 
will ask whether she will see yon." 
j " Do so, if yon please." 

Miss Sibaon withdrew for the purpose, and Lady Lans- 
downe, left to herself, rose and looked from the window. As 
aoon as it had been poaaitde to move her, the dTing woman had 
been carried into the nearest house which had escaped the 
flames, and Lady Lansdowne, gazisg out, looked on the scene 
of conflict, saw lines of ruins, still asmoke in parts, and dis- 
cerned between the scorched limbs of trees, from which the 
last foliage had fallen, the Uackened skeletons of houses. A 
gaping crowd was moving round the Square, under the eyes of 
special constables, who, distinguished by white bands on their 
arms, gnarded the various entrances. Hundreds, donbtless, 
who would fain have robbed were there to stare ; bnt for the 
most part the gmlty shnnned the scene, and the gazers con- 
sisted mainly of sight-seen from the country, or from Bath, or 
of knota of merchants and traders who argued, some that this 
was what came of, Reform, others that not Beform bnt the 
refusal of Beform was to blame for it. 

Presentlv she saw Sir Robert's stately figure threading its 
way through the crowd. He walked erect, but with ei^rt ; 
yet, though her heart swelled with pity, it was not with pity 
for him. He would have his daughter, and in a few days, in a 
few weeks, in a few months at mwt, the clouds would pass and 
leave him to enjoy the dear evening of his days. 

Bnt for her whom he had taken to his house twenty yean 
before in the bloom of her beauty, the envied, petted, spoiled child 
of fortune, who had sinned so lightly and paid so dearfy, and who 
Aow lay diBtraught at the close of all, what evtning remained ? 
What gleam of light ? What comfort at the last ? 



FORGIVENESS 



355 



In her behalf, the heart which Whig pride, and family 
prejudice, and the cares of riohos had fail^ to harden, iwellcd 
to bunting. 

" He must forgive her I " she ejaculated. " Ho shall 
forgive her 1 " And gliding to the door she staved Mary, who 
was in the act of entering. 

_" I most see your father," she said. " He is mounting the 
stairs now. Go to your mother, my dear, and when I ring, do 
yon come I " 

Mary's eyes met hers, and what they read, of feminine pity 
and generous purpose, need not be told. Whatever it was, 
the girl seized the woman's hand and kissed it with wet eyes — 
and fled. And when Sir liubort, ushered upstairs by Hisi 
Sifason, entered the room and looked round for his daughter, 
he found in her stead the wife of his enemy. 

On the instant he remembered the errand on which she had 
songht him six months before ; and he was quick to construe 
her presence by its light, and to feel resentment. The wrong 
of years, the daily, hourly wrong, committed not against him 
only but agniost tbe innocent and the helpiess, this woman 
wonld have him forgive at a word ; merely because the doer, 
who had had no ruth, no pity, no scinples, hung on the verge 
of that step which all, just and nnjnst, must take I And 
some, he knew, standing where be stood, would forgive; 
would forgive with their lips, using words which meant 
nought to the lajer, though they soothed the hearers. But 
he was no hypocrite ; he wonld not forgive. Forgive ? Great 
Heaven, that any should think that the wrongs of a lifetime 
could be forgiven in an hour ! At a word I Beside a bed I 
As soon might the grinding wear of years be erased from 
the heart, the wrinkles of care from the brow, the snows of 
ago from the head 1 As easily might a word give back to the 
old the spring and flame and vigour of their youth 1 



but though Lady Lansdowne marked the sullen drop of his 
eyebrows, and the firm set of the lower face, she did not 



Something of what he thought impressed itaelf on his face, 

IVS. t 

flinch. 

"I cvne npon your name," she said, " in the report of the 
dreadful doings here— in the Jtereury, this morning. I hope, 
Sir Kohert, I shall Iw pardoned for intruding." 

He murmured something, as much no as yes, and with a 
manner as frigid as his breeding permitted. And standirg— 



3S6 



CHIPPINGE 



ihe had retuted betielf— he oontinned to look U her, hii lipi 
drawn down. 

" I griere," (he oontinoed, " to find the troth more and 
than the report." 

" I do not know that too can help ni," he laid. 

"No?" 

" No." 

"Became," ihe rejoined, looking at him iioftly, "70a will 
not let me help jon. Bir Bobert " 

" Ladj Lanidowne I " He broke in abmptly, neing her 
name with emphasie, niing it with intention. " Once ietote 
yoD came to me. Donbtlen yon remember. Now let me lay 
at once that if yoor errand to-day be the same, and I think it 
likely that it ii the aame " 

" It ia not the lame," the replied with emotion which ihe 
did not tiy to hide. " It ii not the same I For then there 
wai time. And now there ii no time. Let a day, it may be 
an honr, peas, and at the<oost of all yon poeseai yon will not be 
able to bay that which yon can still nave for nothing I " 

" And what is that ? " he asked, frowning. 

" An easy heart." He had not looked for that answer, and 
he started. " Sir Bobert," she continned, rising from her seat, 
and speaking with even deeper feelii::^, " forgive her ! Forgive 
her, I implore yon I The wrong is past, is done, is over I 
Tonr daughter is restored " 

" But not bv her I " he cried, taking her np quickly. " Not 
by her act 1 " he repeated sternly, " or wiA her will I And 
what has she done that I shonld forgive ? I, whose life she 
blighted, whose pride she stabbed, whose hopes she crashed ? 
Whom sue left solitary, wifeless, childless through the years of 
my strength, the years that she cannot, that no one can give 
back to me ? Throagh the long sammer days that were a 
weariness, and the dark winter days that were a torpor ? 
Yet — ^yet I could forgive her. Lady Lansdowne, I could forgive 
her, I do forgive her that 1 " 

" Sir Bobert 1 " 

" That, all that 1 " he coni^inaed, with a gesture and in a 
tone of bitterness which harmonised bat ill with the words he 
uttered. " All that she ever did amiss to me I forgive her. 
But — but the child's wrong — never ' Had she relent^ indeed, 
at the last, had ahe of her own motion, of her own free will 
given me back my daughter, had she repented and undone the 



FORGIVENESS 



357 



wrong, thtn — bat no nutter ! the did not t She did not one," 
he repeated with agitation, " the did not any of tliMe tbingi. 
And I a*k, what baa the done that I should forcira her i " 

8be did not answer him at onoe, and when ue did it was in 
a tone so low as to be barelj andible. 

" I cannot answer that," she Mid. " Bat i* it the only 
question ? Is there not another aneation, Sir Robert — not 
what she hits done, or left undone, onl what yon— forgive me 
and bear with me— have left undone, or done amisi ? Are 
yon— yon clear of all spot or trespass, innocent of all blame or 
erring ? When she came to yon a yoang girl — a yonng bride 
— ana, oh, I remember hor, the sunshine was not brighter, she 
was a child of air rather than of earth, so fair and hMdleas, so 
capricious, and yet so innocent I — did yon in the first days 
never lose patienct ? Never fail to make allowance 1 Never 
preach when wisdom would have smiled, never look grave «ben 
she longed for lightness, never scold when it had been better 
to langu 7 Did yon never forget that she was a score of yean 
yonnger than you, and a hnndred yean more frivolous ? Or," 
— Lady Lansdowne's tone was a mere whisper now — " if yon 
are clear of all offence against her, are yon clear of all offence 
against any, of all trespass ? Have yuu no need to be forgiven, 
no need, no " 

Her voice died away into silence. She left the appeal 
nnfinished. 

Sir Robert paced the room. And other scenes than those 
on which he bad taught himself to brood, other days than 
those later days of wasted summon and solitary winters, of 
dnlness and decay, rose to bis memory. Sombre moods by 
which it had pleased him— at what a cost !— to make his dis- 
ideasure known. Sarcastic words, warrant for the facile retort 
that followe<1, curt judgments and ill-timed reproofs ; and 
always the sense of outraged dignity to freeze the manner and 
embitter the tone. 

So much, so much which be had foigotten came back to 
him as he walked the room with averted face I While Lady 
Lansdowne waited with her hand on the bell. Minutes were 
passing, minutes ; who knew how precious they might be ? 
And with them was passing his opportunity. 

He spoke at last. " I will see her," he said huskily. 

And on that Lad^ Lansdowne conceived a last act of kind- 
ness. She said nothing, she uttered no word of thanks. But 



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35« 



CHIPPINGE 



■when Mary entered, pale, and with that composare which love 
teachet the least exjurienced, she wag gone. Nor as she drove 
in all the pomp of her liveries and outriders throngh Bath, 
through Corsham, through Chippenham, did thoee who ran out 



to watch mj ladj's four greys ^o b^, see her faceasthe face 
But Lady Loniaa, irrng down the steps to meet 



01 an angeL «,_, — «» .uvu*aa, ujui^^ uunu buo bi«pB lo meeii 
her— four at a tmie and hoidenishly— was taken to her arms, 
. nnscolded ; and knew by instinct that this was the time to pet 
and be petted, to confess and be forgiven, and to learn in the 
stillness of her mother's room those thrilling lessons of life, 
which her governess had not imparted, nor Mrs. Fairchild 
approved. 

** Bat more than wiadom lees, love know*. 
What eja haa aoanned the pertame'ef the nxe ? 
Baa aoT gnaped tha low gnjr uiat vhioh itanda 
Qhoat-Uke at ere abon tha iheeted Umda t " 

Meanwhile Sir Bobarl? paused on the threshold of the room 
— Atr room, which he haa first entered two-and twenty yeant 
before. And as the then and the now, the constrast between the 

rt and the present, forced themselves apon him what could he 
bat pause and bow his head ? In the room a voice, her voice, 
yet unlike her voice, high, weak, never ceasing, was talking, as 
from a graat distance, from another world ; talking, talking, 
never ceasing. It filled the room. Yet it did not come from 
a world so distant as he at fint fancied ; a world that was qnite 
akwf . For when, after he had listened for a time in the shadow 
by the door, his daughter led him forward. Lady Sybil's eyes 
took note of their approach, though she recognised neither of 
tiiem. Her mind was still busy amid the scenes of the riot ; 
twisting and weaving them into a piece with old impressions 
of the French Terror, made on her mind in childhood by talk 
heard at her nnrse's knee. 

" They are coming 1 They are coming now," she mnttered, 
her bright eyes fixed on him. " But they shall not take her. 
They sbaU not take her," she repeated. "Hide behind me, 
Mary. Hide, child I They shan't take you. One neck's 
enough, and mine is growing thin. It need not to be thin. 
But that's right. Hide, and they'll not see yon, and when 
I am gone you'll escape. Hush 1 Here they are I " And 
then in a lender tone, " I am ready," she said, " I am quite 
ready." 



FORGIVENESS 



359 



Mary leant over her. " Mother t " she cried, nnable to bear 
the scene in silence. " Mother ! Don't yon know me ? " 

" Hash I " the dying woman answered, a look of terror 
crossing her face. " Hash, child 1 Don't speak I I'm ready, 
gentlemen ; I will go with yon. I tm not afraid. My neck 
is small, and it will be bnt a sqaeexe." And the tried to raise 
herself in the bed. 

Maiy laid gentle hands on her, and restrained hw. 
"Mother," she said. "Mother I Don't yon know me? I 
am Mary." 

Bnt Ladjr Sibyl, heedless of her, looked beyond her with 
fear and suspicion in her eyes. 

" Yes," she said. "I know yon. I know yon. I knor 
yoo. Bnt who is— that ? Who is that ? " 

" My father. It is my father. Don't yon know him ? " 

Bnt rtill, « Who is it ? Whais it ? " Lady SyM continued 
to ask. "Who is it?" 

MaiT bnrst into tears. 

"What does he want? What does he want ? What does 
he want ? " the dying woman asked in endless, unreasoning 
repetition. 

Sir Robert had entered the room in the full belief that with 
the best of wills it would be hard, it would be weU-nigh im- 
possible to forgive his wife with more than the lips. But when 
he heard her, weak and helplesss as she was, thinldng of another ; 
when he understood that she who had done so great a wrong 
to the child was willing to ^ve up her own life for the diild ; 
when he felt the drag at his heart-strings of many an old and 
lacred recollection, shared only by her, and which that voice, 
that face, that form brought back, he fell on his knees by 
the bed. 

She shrank from him, terrified. " What does he want ? " 
she repeated. 

"Sybil," he said, in a husky voice. "I want your for- 
giveness. Sybil, wife I Do you hear me ? Will yon forgive 
me ? Will you forgive me, late as it is ? " 

Strange to say, his voice pierced the confusion which filled 
the sick brain. She looked at him steadily and long ; and she 
sighed, bat she did not answer. 

"Sybil," he repeated in a qnavering voice. " Do you not 
know me ? Don't yon remember me ? I am your huswnd." 

" Ya — I know, she muttered. 



36o 



CHIPPINGE 



" This IB yonr danghter." 

She gmiled. 

" Onr daughter. Onr danghter," he repeated. 

" Mary ? " she murmured. " Mary ? " 

"Yes, Mary." 

She snuled weakly on him— Mary's head wag touching his. 
But she did not answer. She remained looldng at them. They 
could not tell whether she understood, or was slipping uway 
again. At last Sir Bobert took her hand and pressed it 
gently. '^ 

"Do yon hear me ? " he said. " If I was harsh to yon in 
the old days, if I made mistakes, if I wronged you, I want you 
— to foigive me." 

, . " I— forgive yon," she murmured. A faint gleam of mis- 
chief, of laughter, of the old Lady SybiJ, shone for an instant 
in her eyes ; as if she knew that she had the upper hand. " I 
forgive you— everything," she murmured. Yes, for certain 
now, she was slipping away. 

Maiy took her other hand. But she did not speak again. 
And before the wat«h on the table beside her had ticked many 
times she had slipped away for good, with that gleam of 
triumph in her eyes — forgiving. 



CHAPTER XXXVII 



IN THE aOURNINO COACH 

It is a platitude that tie flood is followed by the ebb. In the 
heat of action, and while its warmth cheered his spirits, Arthur 
Vaughan felt that he had done something. Tme, what he had 
done brought him no nearer to making his political dream a 
reality. Not for him the promise, 

" U thall be thine in danger's hour 
To gnido tbe lielm of Britain's pnwer. 
And midst thy country's laurelled crown 
To twine a garland all thy own." 

Yet he had done something. He had played the man when 
some others had not played the man. 

Bnt now that the crisis was over, and he had made his last 
round, now that he had inspected for the last time the patrols 
over whom he had been set, seen order restored on the Welsh 
Back, and panic dr > from Berkeley Square, he owned the 
reaction. There ia .. latigue whinh one night's rest fails to 
banish ; and low in mind and tired in body, he felt, when he 
rose late on the Tuesday afternoon, that he had done nothing 
worth doing ; nothing that altered his position in essentials. 

For a time, indeed, he had fancied that things were changed. 
Sir Bobert hiid requested his assistance, and allowed him to 
share his search ; and though it was possible that the merest 
stranger, cast by fortune into the same adventure Imd been as 
welcome, it was also possible that the baronet viewed him with 
a more benevolent eye. And Mary — Mary, too, had flown to 
his arms as to a haven ; bnt in such a position, amid surround- 
ings so hideous, was that wonderful ? Was it not certain 
tiut she would have behaved in the same way to the merest 
acquaintance if he brought her aid and pi-otection ? 

The answer might be yes or no I AVhat was certain was 
361 



36» 



chip:. INGE 



that it coold not avail him. For hetween him and her there 
stood more than her father's aversion, more than the doabt of 
her affection, more than the nnlnckj borough, of which he 
had despoiled Sir Robert. There were her possession.-, there 
was the suspicion which Sir Robert had founded on them — on 
Mary's gain and his loss — there was the independence, which 
he must snrrender, and which pride and principle alike forbade 
him to relinqnish. 

In the confusion of the night Vanghan had almost for- 
gotten and quite forgiven. Now he saw that the thing, thongh 
forgotten, though forgiven, wag there. He could not owe all 
to a man who had so misconstrned him, and who might mis- 
construe him again. He could not be dependent on one whose 
views, thoDghts, pnjadicos, were opposed to his own. No, 
the night and its doing most stand apart. He and she had 
met, they had parted. He had one memoiy more, and — 
nothing was changed. 

In this mood the fact that the White Lion regarded him 
as a hero brought him no' com fort. Neither the worshipping 
eyes of the young lady 'v' , had tried to dissuade him from 
going forth on the Sun , nor the respectful homage which 
dogged his movements, uplifted him. He had small appetite 
for big solitary dinner, and was languidly reading the Bristol 
Mercury, when a name was broaght up to him, and a letter. 

" Gentleman will wait your pleasure, sir," the man said. 

He broke open the letter, and felt the blood rise to his face 
as his e^es fell on the signature. The few lines were from 
his consul, and ran as follows :— 

" Dkae Sib, 

"I feel it my dnt^ to inform yon, as a connection 
of the family, that Lady Sybil Vennnydcn died at five minut«s 
past three o clock this afternoon. Her death, which I am led 
to believe conld in no event have been long delayed, was 
doubtless hastened by the miserable occurrences of the last 
few days. 

" I have directed Isaac White to convey this intimation to 
your hands, and to inform yon from time to time of the 
arrangements made for her ladyship's funeral, which wiU take 
place at Stapylton. I have the honour to be, sir. 
" Your obedient servant, 

" BOBEBI VeBMUYDBIT." 



IN THE MOURNING COACH 



363 



Yaagban laid the letter down with a groaa. As he did bo 
ho became aware that Isaac White wag in the room. 

" Halloa, White," he said. " Is that you ? " 

White looked at him with unconcealed respect. " Yes, 
sir," he said. " Sir Robert bade me wait on you in person. 
If I may venture," he continued, " to compliment you oo my 
own account, sir— a very great honour to the family, Mr. 
Vaughan — in all the west country I may say " 

Vaughan stopped him, and said something of Lady Sybil's 
dsath ; adding that ho had never seen her but once. 

"Twice, begging your pardon," White answered, suiling. 
" Do you remember I met you at Chippenham before the election, 
Mr. Vaughan ? Well, sir, she came up to the coach, and as 
good as touched vonr sleeve, poor kdy, while I was tjJking to 
yon. Of course she knew that her daughter was on the coach." 

" 1 learned afterwards that Lady Sybil travelled by it that 
day," Vaughan replied. Then, with a frown, he took up the 
letter. " Of course," he continued, " I have no intention of 
attending the funeral." 

" Bat I think his honour wishes much " 

" There is no possible reason," Vaughan said doggedly. 

"Pardon me, sir," White answered anxiously. " You are 
not aware, I am sure, how highly Sir Robert appreciates your 
gallant conduct yesterday. No one in Bristol can view it in 
a stronger light. It is a happy thing he witnessed it. He 
thinks, indeed, that but for you her ladyship would have died 

in the crowd. Moreover " 

' "That's enough. White," Vaughan said coldly. "It is 
not so much what Sir Robert thinks now as what he thought 
formerly." 

"But indeed, sir, his honour's opinion of that matter, 
too " ' 

"That's enough, White," the young gentleman repeated, 
rising from his seat. He was telling himself that hu was not 
a dog to be kicked away and called to heel again. He would 
forgive, but he would not return. " I don't wish to discuss 
the matter," he added with an air of finality. 

And White did not venture to say more. 

He did wisely. For Vaughan, left to himself, had not 
reflected two minutes before he felt that he had played the 
churl. To make amends, he called at the house to inquire 
after the ladies at an hour next morning when thoy could not 



S<4 



CHIPPINGE 



be ttirring. Having performed that duty, and learned that 
no inmiiry into the riota woold be opened for aome dari— and 
also that a proposal to give him a piece of gold plate was 
nnder debate at the Commercial Booms, he fled, pride and 
lore at odds in his breast. 

It is possible that, in Sir Robert's heart also, there was a 
battle proceeding. On the eve of the funeral he sat done in 
tbo library at Stapylton, that room in which he had passed so 
many unhappy bonis, and with which the later part of his 
life seemed bound np. Doubtless, as he sat, he gave solemn 
thought to the post and the future. The room was no longer 
dusty, the furniture was no longer shabby ; there were fresh 
flowers on his table, though the season was late ; and by his 
great leather chair, a smaller chair, filled withiii the last few 
minutes, had its place. Yet he could not forget what he bad 
Buffered there ; how he had brooded there. And porhape i.e 
thanked God, amid his more solemn thoughts, that he was 
not glad that she who had plagued him would plague him no 
more. All that her friend bad urged in her behalf, all that 
was brightest and best in 'his memories of her, this generous 
whim, tnat quixotic act rose, it may be supposed, before him. 
And the picture of her fair young lieauty, of her laughing face 
in the bridal veil or under the Leghorn, of her first words to 
him, of her first acta in her new home 1 And but that the 
tears of age flow hardly, it is possible that he wonid have wept. 

Presently — perhaps ne was not sorry for it — a knock came 
at the door and Isaac White entered. He came to take the 
last instructions for the morrow. A few words settled what 
remained to be settled, and then, after a little hesitation — 

" I promised to name it to you, sir," White said. " I don't 
know what yonll say to it. Dyas wishes to walk with the 
others." 

Sir Bobert winced. " Dyas ? " he muttered. 

" He says he's anxious to show his respect for the family, 
in every way consistent with his opinions." 

" Opinions ? " Sir Bobert echoed. " Opinions ? " Good 
Lord I A butcher's opinions I Who knows but some day 
he'll have a butcher to represent him ? Or a baker or a 
candlestick-maker 1 If evur they have the baUot, that'll come 
with it, White." 

White waited, but as the other said no raore, " Ton won't 
forbid him, sir ? " he said, a note of appeal i his voice. 






IN THE MOURNING COACH 



36s 



"Oil, lut him come," Sir Bobett answered wcnrlly. "I 
suppose," he continued, itriving to speak in the same tone, 
" you've heard nothing from his— Member ? " 

" From — oh, /rom Mr. Vanghan, sir ? No, sir. But Mr. 
Fh'xton is coming." 

Sir Robert muttered something under his breath, and it 
was not flattering to the Honourable Bob. Then he turned 
his chair and held his hands over the blaze. " That vill do. 
White," he said. "That will do." And he did not look 
round until the agent had left the room. 

Bat White was certain that even on this day of sad 
memories, with the ordeal of the morrow before him, Arthur 
Vaughan's attitude troubled bis patron. And when, twenty- 
four hours later, the agent's eyes, travelling 'onnd the vast 
assemblage which regara for the family had gathered at the 
grave, fell upon Arthur Vaughan, and he knew that he had 
repented and come, he was glad. The young Member held 
himself a little apart from the small group of family mourners ; 
a little apart also from the larger company whom respect or 
social ties had brought thither. Among these la«t, who were 
mostly Tories, many were surprised to see Lord Lansdowne 
and his son. But more, aware of the breach between Mr. 
Vaughan and his cousin, and of the former's peculiar position 
in the borough, were surprised to see him. And these, while 
their tjionghts should have been elsewhere, stole furtive glances 
bt the sombre figure ; and when Vanghan left, still alone and 
without speaking to any, followed his departure with interest. 
In those days of mutes and crape-coloured staves, mourning 
cloaks and trailing palls, it was not the custom for women to 
bury their dead. And Vaughan, when he had made up his 
mind to come, knew that he ran no risk of seeing Mary. 

Tliat he might escape with greater ease, he had left his 
post-chaise at a side-gate of the park. The moment the cere- 
mony was over, he made his way to it, now traversing beds of 
fallen chestnut and sycamore leaves, no .<r striding across the 
sodden turf. The solemn words which he had heard, emphasised 
as they were by the scene, the grey autumn day, the lonely 
park, and the dark groups threading their way across it, could 
not hold his thoughts from Mary. She would be glad that he 
had come. Perhaps it was for that reason that he had come. 

He had passed through the gate of the park and his foot 
was on the step of the chaise, when be heard White's voice, 



3M 



CHIPPINGE 



oalling after him. IIo tamed and law the aj^nt hDrryingt 
desperately a cr him. White's monrning tnit was tight and 
now and ill made for haste ; and he was hoi and bteathleas. 
For a moment, " Mr, Vaaghau I Mr. Vanglian t " was all bo 
conld say. 

Vanghan tnmcd a rclnctnnt, almost a stem faoe to him. 
Not that ho disliked the agent, but ho thought that he had got 
clear. 

" What is it ? ' he asked, withont removing his foot from 
the step. 

White looked behind him. "Sir Robert, sir," he said, 
" has somcthiajt *o aa'' to you. The carriage is following. If 
yon'U be good enongn," he continued, mopping his face, " to 
wait a moment I " 

"Sir Bobort cannot wish to see me at inch a time," 
Vanghan answered, between wonder and impatience. " lie 
will write, doubtless." 

"The carriage shonid bo in light," was White's answer. 
And truly as he spokt it came into view j ronnding the curve 
of a small coppice of beech trees, it rolled rapidly down a 
declivity, and ascended towards them as Tapldiy. 

A moment and it would be here. Vangnan looked un- 
certainly at bis post-boy. He wished to catch the York House 
coach at Ohippenham, and be bad little time to spare. 

It was not the loss of time, however, that he really had in 
his mind. Bat he conld guess, be fancied, what Sir Robert 
wished to say ; and be did not deny that the old man was 
^nerous in saying it at such a moment — if that were his 
mtention. Bnt bis own mind was made np ; he conld only 
repeat what he bad said to White. It was not a question of 
what Sir Robert had thought, or now thonght, bnt of what 
he thought. And the upshot of all bis thoughts was that bo 
would not be dependent upon any man. He had differed from 
his cousin once, and the elder had treated the younger nu\n 
with injustice and contumely ; that might occur agait. 
Indeed, taking into acconnt the difference in their political 
views in an age when politics connted for much, it was sure to 
occur again. But his mind was made np that ii shonid net 
occur to him. Unhappy as the resolution made him, he would 
be free. He would be bis own man. He would remember 
nothing except that that night had changed nothing. 
It was with a set face, therefore, that he watched the 



IN THE MOURNING COACH 



367 



oamago draw near. Apparentljr it wai a oarriagc which had 
conveyed Rneita to the f aneral, for the blindi were drawn. 
,_, " ^' '.'!' '?''« ''■"«. »' it '»k« yon a mile on yonr way," 
White aaid with lome nerToiwneM. "I will tell yonr ohaisa 
to follow." And ho opened the door. 
I Vanghan raised bis hat, and stepped in. It was only whi-n 
the door was closing behind him and the carriage starting 
'"?''.'"» word from White, that he saw that it contained, 
not Sir Bobcrt Vermuyden, but a lady. 

"Mary I" he cried. The name broke from him in his 
astonishment. 

. She looked at him with self-posgemion and a gentle, nn- 
smihng gravity. She indicated the front scat, and— 

" WiU Ton Mt there? "she said. " I .»n talk to yon better, 
Mr. Vanghan, if you sit there." 

Ho obeyed her, marvelling. The blind on the side on 
which she sat was raised a few inches, and in the subdued 
light her graceful head showed like some fair flower rising 
from the t nth of her mourning. For she wore no covering 
on her head, and he might have guessed, had he had any 
iomni.-^nd of his thoughts, that she had sprung as sha wm into 
iy v^'™' oamage. Amazement, however, put him beyond 

Her eyes met his ierionsly. « Mr. Vanghan," she said, 

my presence must seem extraordinary to yon. But I am 

come to ask yon a question. Why did you (ill me six months 

ago bat you loved me — if yon did not ? " 

„ T J^f,'^" «« <^e«P'y agitated as she was qnict on the surface. 

I )')W yon nothmg but ihe truth," he said. 

"JNo," she replied. 

"But yes! A hundred times, yes I " he cried. 

" Then yon are altered ? That is it ? " 

" Never I " he cried. " Never I " 

"And yet— things are changed ? My father wrote to you, 
did he not, three days ago ? And said aa much as yon could 
look to him to say ? " 

"He said ;" 

"He withdrew what he had uttered in an unfortunate 
moment. He withdrew that which, I think, be hadi mever 
believed in his hes ;. He said as much as you could expect 
him to say ? " she repeated, he:- colour mounting a little, her 
eyes cjftllenging him with courageous firmness. 



368 



CHIPPINGE 



" He laid," VaDfjban aniwercd in a low Toioe, " whal I 
tliink ib became him to nj." 

" Yoa DndeniU)od that bi« feelinn wen chaoged toward* 
yon ? " 

" To some extent." 

She drew a deep breath and lat back. " Tlien it if for joa 
to speak," ihe laid. 

Bat before, agitated ai he wai, he conld tpcak, ehe leant 
forward again. 

"Noi'^^ihe said, "I had forgotten. I had forgotten." And 
the slight anivering of her lips, a something piteons in her 
eyes, reminaed him once more, once again— and tbe likeneaa 
tagged at his heart — of the Mary Smith who had pansed on 
the threshold of tbe inn at Maidenhead, alarmed and abothed 
by the bastle of the cof°e-room. '* I had forgotten I It is 
not my father yon cannot forgive — it is I, who am unworthy 
of yoor forgiveness ? Yon cannot make allowance," she con- 
tinned, stopping him by a gestnre, as he opened his month to 
speak, " for the weakness of one who had always been dependent, 
who had lived all her life nnder the dominion of others, who 
had baen taaght by experience that, if she wonld eat, the 
mast first obey. Yon can make no allowance, Mr. Vanghan, 
for such an one placed between a father, whom it was her duty 
to hononr, and a lover to whom she had indeed given her 
heart, she knew not why — but whom she barely knew, with 
whose life she had no real acanointance, whose honesty she 
must take on trust, because sne loved him ? Yoa cannot 
forgive ber because, tanght all her life to bend, she could not, 
she did not, stand upright nnder the first trial of her faith ? " 

"No I "he cried violently. "No I No I It is not that 1" 

" No ? " she said. " Yon do forgive her then ? Yoa have 
forgiven her? The more as to-day she is not weak. The 
earth is not level over my mother's grave, some may say hard 
things of me — bat I have come to yon to-day." 

" God bless yon 1 " ho cried. 

She drew a deep breath and sat back. " Then," she said, 
with a sigh as of relief, " it is for you to speak." 

There was a gravity in her tone, and so complete an 
absence of all self-conscionsness, all littleness, that he owned 
that he had never known her as she was, had never measured 
her true worth, had never loved her as she deserved to be 
loved. Yet— perhaps because it was all that was left to him— 



IN THE MOURNING COACH 



369 



Iio clung di-8|)crat«lT to tho retolutioii he had foruieU, to thu 
jioiition which priao and prudcnco ulike hod bidden Lim to 
take np. 

" Wliat am I . say ? " ho atkcd hoaKoly. 
" Why, if you lovo me, if you forgive mo," aho answered 
softly, " do yon leave mo f " 
" Can yon not unUoretand ? " 

" In port, I can. But not altogether. Will you explain ? 
I— I think," she continued, with a movement of her flower-likn 
head that for gentle dignity he hud never seen excelled, " I 
have a right to an explanation." 

" You know of what Sir Robert accused me ? " 

" Yes." 

"Am I to justify him ? You know what was the difTerenco 
which came between is, which first divided us I And what 
1 thoMht right then, , still think right ? Am I to abandon 
It? You know what I bore ? Am I to live on the bounty 
of one who once thought so ill of me, and may think as ill 
again ? Of one who, differing from mc, punished me so 
cruelly ? Am I to sink into dependence, to .sacrifice my 
judgment, to surrender my politic* Uberty into the hand? of 
one who-^ " 

" Of mv father I " she said grt . eiv. 

He could not, so reminded, say what ho had been going to 
say, but he assented by a movement of the head. And after 
an interval :f silence — 

" I cannot," he cried passionately, " I cam. r even to 
secure mv happiness, run that risk I " 

She looked from the window of the carriage, and In a 
voice which shook a little — 

" No," she said, " I suppose not." 

He was silent, and he suffered. He dared not meet hor 
eyes. \\hy had she sought this interview? Why had sho 
chosen to torment him ? Ah, if she knew, it she only knew 
what pain she was inflicting upon him t 

But apparently she did not know. For by-and-bv she 
spoke again. ' 

"No," she said. I suppose not. " Yet have you thought " 
—and now there was a more decided tremor in her voice- 
that that which you surrender is not all there is at stake ? 
^onr independence is precious to you, and you have a right, 
Mr. Vanghan, to purchase it, even at the cost of your happiness. 

2b 



370 



CHIPPINGE 



But have yon a right to pnichase it at the codt of another's ? 
At the cost of mine ? Have yon thonght of my happiness ? " 
she continued, " or only of yoors— and of yourself ? To save 
your independence— shall I say, to save your pride ?— you 
are willinff to set yonr love aside. Bnt have yon asked me 
whether I am willing to pay my half of the price ? My 
heavier half ? Whetier I am willing to set my happmess 
aside? Have yon thonght of — me at all?" 

If he had not, then, when he saw how she looked at him, 
with what eyes, with what love, as she laid her hand on his 
arm, he had been more than man if he had resisted her long I 
But he still fought with himself, and with her ; staring with 
hard flashed face straight before him, telling himself that by 
all that was left to him he mnst hold. 

"1 think, I think," she said gently, yet with dignity, "yon 
have not thought of me." 

" Bnt your father— Sir Eobert " 

" He is an ogre, of course," she cried, in a tone suddenly 
changed. " But yon should have thought of that before, sir," 
she continued, tears and 'laughter in her voice. "Before you 
travelled with me on the coach I Before yon saved my hfe I 
Before yon— looked at me 1 For yon can never take it back. 
You can never give me myself again. I think that you must 
take me I " 

And then he did not resist her any longer. He could not 
And the carriage was stayed, and orders were given. And, 
empty and hugely overpaid, the yellow post-chaise ambled on 
to Chippenham ; and bearing two inside, and a valise on the 
roof, the monming coach drove slowly and solemnly back to 
Stapylton. As it wound its way over the green undulations of 
the park, the rabbits that ran, and then stopped, cocking their 
■cuts, to look at it, saw nothing strange in it. Nor the fallow- 
-deer of the true Savemake breed, who, before they fled through 
%aie dying bracken, eyed it with poised heads. Ivw, the ^ron 
which watched its approach from the edge of the Garaen Pool, 
and did not deign to drop a second leg, saw nothing strange in 
it. Tet it bore, for all that, the strangest of all earthly pas- 
sengers, and the strongest, and the bravest, and the furest— 
anf withal, thank God, the most familiar. For it earned Love. 
And love the same yet different, love gaunt and grey-haured, 
yet kind and warm of heart, met it at the door and gave it 
welcome. 



CHAPTEK XXXVIII 



THBEASS AND PATCHES 

Thopgh England had not known for fifty years an oatbreak 
80 formidable or so deBtmctiTe aa that of which the news was 
laid on men's breakfast-tables on the Tuesday momin;?, it had 
less efFect on the political situation than might bare been ex- 
pected. It sent, indeed, a thrill of horror through the nation. 
And had it occurred at an earlier stage of the Reform struggle, 
before the middle class had fully committed itself to a trial of 
strength with the aristocracy, it must have detached many of 
the more timid and conservative of the Beformers. But it 
came too late. The die was cast ; men's minds were made 
np on the one side and the other. Each saw events coloured 
to his wish. And though Wetherell and Croker, and the 
devoted band who still fought manfully round those chieftains, 
called heaven and earth to witness the first-fruits of the tree 
of Reform, the majority of the nation preferred to see in these 
troubles the alternative to the Bill — the abyss into which the 
whole conntry would be hurled if that heaven-sent measnra 
were not passed. 

On one thing, however, all were agreed. The outrage was 
too great to be overlooked. The law must be vindicated, the 
law-breakers must be punished. To this end the Government, 
anxious to clear themselves of the suspicion of collusion, ap- 
poiuted a special Oommiseion, and sent it to Bristol to try the 
rioters; and four poor wretches were hanged, a dozen were 
transported, and many received minor sentences. Having 
thus, a little late in the day, tanght the ignorant that Reform 
did not spell Revolution after the French pattern, the Cabinet 
turned their minds to the measure again. And in December 
they brought in the Third Reform Bill, with the fortunes and 
passage of which this story is not at pains to deal. 

But o( necessity the misguided creatures who kindled the 
371 



37* 



CHIPPINGE 



fires in Queen's Square on that fatal Sunday, and swore that 
they would not leave a gaol standing in England, were not the 
only men who suffered. Sad as their plight was, there was 
one whose plight — if pain be measured by the capacity to feel 
— was sadder. While they were being tried in one part of 
Bristol, there was proceeding in another part an inquiry charged 
with deeper tragedy. Not those only who had done the deed, 
bnt those who had snfTered them to do it, must answer for it. 
And the fingers of all pointed to one man. The magistrates 
might escape— the Mayor indeed had done his duty creditably, 
if to little purpose ; for war was not their trade, and the thing 
at its crisis had become an affair of war. But Colonel Brereton 
conld not shield himself behind that plea : so many had behaved 
pooriy that the need to bring one to book was the greater. 

He was tried by court-martial, and amon^ the witnesses 
was Arthur Vaughan. By reason of his position, as weU as of 
the creditable part he had played, the Member for Chippinge 
was heard by the Court with more than common attention ; 
and he moved all who lis^ned to him by his painful anxiety 
to set the accused's conduct in the best light ; to show that 
what was possible by daylight on the Monday morning might 
not have been possible on the Sunday night, and l£at the 
choice from first to last was between two risks. No question 
of Colonel Brereton's courage — for he had served abroad with 
credit, nay, with honour— entered into the inquiry ; and it 
was proved that a soldier's duty in such a case was not well 
defined. But afterwards Vaughan much regretted that he had 
not laid before the Court the opinion he had formed at the 
time — that during the crisis of the riots Brereton, obsessed by 
one idea, was not responsible for his actions. For, sad to say, 
on the fifth day of the inquiry, sinking nnder a weight of 
mental agony which a man of his reserved and melancholy 
temper was unable to support, the unfortunate officer put an 
end to his life. Few have paid so dearly for an error of 
judgment and the lack of that coarser fibre which has enabled 
many an inferior man to do his duty. The page darkens with 
his fate, too tragical for such a theme as this. And if by 
chance these words reach the eye of any of his descendants, 
theirs be the homage due to the memory of a signal misfortune 
and an honourable but hapless man. 

Of another and greater person whose life touched Arthur 
Vaughan's once and twice, and of whom, with all his faults, it 



THREADS AND PATCHES 



373 



was never said by his wont enemy that he feared responsibility 
or shunned the post of danger, a brief word must snifice. If 
Lord Brou<;ham did not live to see that complete downfall of 
the great Whig honses which he had predicted, he lived to see 
their power rainonsly cnrtailed. He lived to see their influence 
totter under the blow which the Repeal of the Com Laws 
dealt the landed interest, he lived to see the lleform Bill of 
1867, he lived almost to see the coup de grace given to their 
leadership by the Ballot Act. And in another point his 
pr(yhecy came true. As it had been with Bnrke and Sheridan 
and Tierney it was with him. His fanlUi were great, as his 
merits were transcendent ; and presently in the time of his 
need his high-bom associates remembered only the former. 
They took advantage of them to pnsh him from power ; and 
he spent nearly forty years, the remnant of his long life, in the 
cold shade of Opposition. The most brilliant, the most versa- 
tile, and the most remarkable figure of the early days of the 
century, whose tmmpet voice £>d roused England as it has 
never been roused from that day to this, and whose services 
to education and progress are acknowledged but slightingly 
even now, paid for the phenomenal splendour of his youth by 
long years spent in a changed and changing world, jostled by 
a generation forgetful or heedless of his fame. To ns he is 
bnt the name of a carriage ; or is remembered, if at all, for 
his part in Queen Caroline's trial. While Wetherell, that 
stout fighter, Tory of the Tories, witty, slovenly, honest man, 
whose fame was once in all months, whose carioiture was once 
in all portfolios, and whose breeches made the fortune of many 
a charade, is bnt the shadow of a name. 

The year had waned and waied, and it was June again. 
At Stapylton the oaks were coming to their full green ; the 
bracken was lifting its million heads above the sod, and by 
the edge of the Garden Pool the water-voles sat on the leaves 
of the lilies and cleaned their fur. Arthur Vaughan — strolling 
up and down with his father-in-law, not without an occasional 
glance at Kary, recumbent on a seat on the lawn— looked 
grave. 

" I fancy," he said presently, " that we shall leam the fate 
of the Bill to-day." 

" Yery like, very like," Sir Robert answered, in an off- 
hand fashion, as if the subject were not to his taste. And he 



374 



CHIPPINGE 



turned abont and by the aid of his atick expounded his plan for 
eniargmg the flower garden. 

But Vanghan returned to the subject. " If not to-day, 
to-morrow," he said. "And that being so, I've wanted for 
some time, sir, to ask yon what jon wish me to do." 

"To do?" 

"As to the seat at Chippinge." 

Sir Robert's face expressed his annoyance. "I told yon— 
I told you long ago," he repUed, " that I should never interfere 
with your pohtioal movements." 

" And you have kept your word, sir. Bat as Lord Lans- 
downe cedes the seat to you for this time, I assume " 

" I don't know why you assnme anything I " Sir Bobert 
retorted irritably. 

" 1 assume only that yon will wish mo to seek another 
seat." 

" I certainly don't wish you to lead an idle life," Sir 
Bobert answered. " When the younger men of our class do 
that, when they cease to take an interest in political life, on 
tiie one side or the other, our power will indeed be ended. 
Nothing IS more certain than that. Bnt for Chippinge, I 
don t choose that a stranger should hold a seat close to my 
own door. You might have known that I For the party, I 
have taken steps to furnish Mr. Cooke, a man whose opimons 
I thoroughly approve, with a seat elsewhere ; and I have there- 
fore done my dutyin that direction. For the rest, the mischief 
IS done. I suppose," he continued in his driest tone, "yon 
won t want to bring in another Beform Bill immediately ? '' 
*i. ■''!.?.• *"''" "^^nghan answered gratefully. "Nor do I 
think that we are so far apart as yon assnme. The tmth is. 
Sir Bobert, that we all fear one of two things, and according 
as we fear the one or the other we are dubbed Whics or 
Tonea." " 

" What are your two things ? " 

" DMpotism or anarchy," Vanghan replied modestly. 

Sir Bobert sniffed. " Ton don't refine enough," he said, 
pleased with his triumph. " We all fear despotism ; you, the 
despotism of the one : I, a worse, a more cruel, a more hope- 
iMS despotism, the despotism of the many ! That is the real 
difference between us." 

"Vanghan looked thoughtful. " Perhaps you are right," 
he said. " But— what is that ? He raised his hand. The 



THREADS AND PATCHES 



375 



deep note of a distant gun rolled ap from the valley from the 
town. 

" The Lords have passed the Bill," Sir Bobert replied. 
" Thc7 are celebrating the news in Chippinge. Well, I am 
not 801T7 that my day is done. I give yon the command. 
See only, my boy," he continned, with a Ibving glance at 
Mary, who had risen, and, joined by Miss Sibson, was coming 
to the end of the bridge to meet them, " see only that yoa 
band it on to others — I do not say as I give it to yon, bnt as 
little impaired as may be." 

And again, as Mary caUed to them to know what it was, 
the sound of the gun rolled up the valley — the knell of the 
system, good or bad, under which England bad been ruled so 
long. The battle of which Brougham had fired the first shot 
in the Castle Yard at York was past and won. 

Boom I 

NoTX.— The hononnble part in tha mpprenlan of th« Briitol Biota, 
uorilMd alioTe to Arthur Vanglun, wai utully played by Uojor, after- 
wards Sir Digby, Maekwortb, Aide-de-Camp to Lord Hill. MVjor Maok- 
worth, thongh preaent in an nnofficiil capaeity, took apon hinuolf to gire 
the order to ohiirge, which in the opinion of many aaved the city. 



THE E2fD 



) MUTKD BT 

wiuLUi down AMo Kwi, uvnssv 

LOIMX Am ucoun,